


The Flabtastic Pigwoman

by justanotherworthlessweirdo



Category: Original Work
Genre: Belly Kink, Complete, F/M, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:40:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 27,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29921829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherworthlessweirdo/pseuds/justanotherworthlessweirdo
Summary: Hayley Homme leads a double life as the fat femme-fatale Pigwoman: afflicted by an unquenchable superhuman appetite, she's forced to steal huge quantities of food in order to survive. However, after an encounter with Blackwater City's resident vigilante Darkwolf, she becomes involved in a deadly conspiracy, after which her life will never be the same again...





	1. Chapter 1

It had only been two weeks since the last heist, but the Hunger had already returned.

It had changed lately. Grown more petulant, more painful, more difficult to placate. It seemed like less and less time passed between heists until it showed itself again. It had simply started to want more, even more than before, and the Hunger always got what it wanted.

It had already cost Hayley her home, her family, her future… Now, it had begun consuming her life. It munched away at her soul as is slowly contorted her into its vessel. Her legs existed only to carry the Hunger to food. Her hands served solely to feed it. Her mouth was its mouth, her mind its mind. She wanted freedom, but it wanted her. She often wanted to die, but it didn’t. And the Hunger always got what it wanted.

It hadn’t always been this way, this… bad, but the Hunger had always been there. Even when Hayley was a child, it had controlled her, making her steal snacks, as many as she could. None of the staff at the orphanage had been safe from food theft; not even Miss Michaels, despite her legendary temper. She’d been the fattest kid in the orphanage, in school, so fat and ugly that nobody wanted to adopt her. The staff tried to change her ways, put on countless fad diets and exercise regimes, but no matter how many times Miss Michaels reminded Hayley she was a greedy pig, she never changed. They told her she needed to learn self-control, but it took self-control they couldn’t possibly comprehend for Hayley not to stuff herself constantly. She’d wanted to change, she really had, but the Hunger…

Hayley had since learned there was no point resisting it.

Now, Hayley was 23, and 500 or so lbs. It struck her as odd that she wasn’t substantially heavier considering the impossible amounts she ate, but then again, she was still enormous and, alarmingly, still expanding, the Hunger increasing alongside her. Without having been to college, there was no way she’d be able to get a job that paid for the amount for food her inhuman appetite demanded, if such a job even existed.

So, the heists began.

The set-up was simple. Hayley would take warehouse work under a pseudonym and try her best to survive on fast-food while she cased a joint. Once she’d learned the security, and located all the available food, she’d sneak in at night and eat until the workers returned, or until she’d eaten everything edible in the building. The latter was happening more often than the former lately, so her heists had increased in scale as they had in frequency, with bigger and bigger warehouses falling victim to the Pigwoman.

The Pigwoman. That was what the Daily Trumpet had cruelly dubbed her, and as offensive as she found the name, it’d stuck, with all the other papers using it on the rare occasions they considered Hayley’s unusual heists newsworthy. Only The Trumpet featured Hayley regularly, albeit only as a vehicle to their fatphobic vendetta: Pigwoman was, according to their editor, “evidence of the incredible extent to which the obesity epidemic has corrupted America’s youth and turned them into food-crazed maniacs!” To the rest of the word, Hayley was simply a joke, a punchline compared to the actual supervillains of the world, and she was okay with that. The less respect she got, the less attention she’d get from the law.

In four years of full-time food thievery, Hayley had only encountered cops a few times, and had never met any costumed crimefighters. Tonight, as she raided the Romita & Sons Warehouse at Blackwater City docks in pursuit of packaged treats, she hoped that wouldn’t be changing. Clad in translucent black leggings and a snug nylon-sweater to match, the corpulent cat burglar crept carefully towards the building and summersaulted onto the warehouse roof, landing as gracefully as she could with her whole body wobbling. Hayley was extraordinarily agile for someone of her size, but without her athletic abilities she’d have been caught long ago, so she couldn’t complain. She was extraordinarily strong too: effortlessly, she yanked a skylight open, tearing the pane of glass clear from it’s frame. It was a crude mode of entry, Hayley knew, but lockpicks snapped apart in her pudgy fingers. Besides, it wasn’t like there were ever people around to hear—

“Lonnie, what was that?”

Hayley couldn’t see the source of the voice, but he was definitely inside.

“Probably a rat, you need to loosen up.”

Another voice, presumably Lonnie. As quietly as she could, Hayley lowered herself down her cable like a cuddlier Tom Cruise and came to crouch silently atop a stack of wooden crates. Peering through the sea of boxes, she saw two bulky men in balaclavas, clumsily wandering around. One of them carried a crowbar.

The other carried an assault rifle.

Hayley was scared. She’d had run-ins with police officers before, but she’d never been fired on, let alone with a weapon like that, and these punks seemed so much like the trigger-happy type, what if they heard her, saw he, what if—

“You sure you didn’t hear it?” asked the man with the crowbar.

“For god’s sake Rick,” his companion cried, “quit it will you?”

Hayley watched as Rick was jabbed in the stomach with the butt of Lonnie’s rifle, which seemed to settle the pair’s dispute. Afterwards, the resumed their wandering whilst Hayley remained hidden, her gigantic body jiggling as she trembled, praying they wouldn’t overhear the agonised groans of her gut.

“Which crate are we looking for?” asked Rick.

“It’s marked with a green star,” Lonnie replied, “and be careful opening it. The Benefactor wants all the canisters intact.”

“He’ll get what he’s given,” said Rick, gently pounding his crowbar against his palm.

“I wouldn’t upset him if I were you. Real piece of work.”

“How’d you know? Not like anyone’s actually met him.”

“Piledriver’s met him, and the Benefactor’s got him scared.”

“So what! Piledriver’s a phony.”

“Come on,” said Lonnie, “dude can rip a car in half!”

“Weak. I’ve worked for guys that’d kick his ass no sweat.”

“You’re from Megapolis, right?” Rick nodded. “Super-freaks are thin on the ground here in Blackwater. Crime’s way more… street level. Less evil genius crap.”

“Suits me,” Rick shrugged, “I got busted by so many different do-gooders up there, it was hopeless. At least in this dump you only have to worry about the Wolf.”

“He’s plenty enough,” Lonnie muttered.

Hayley watched the men search the warehouse for a few more seconds, until they finally stumbled upon the crate they were looking for. She couldn’t see what was inside it from so far away, but whatever it was, the men were handling it very carefully, as they slowly carried each cylinder of the substance out the back door. In other words… they were distracted.

Hayley couldn’t wait any longer. Licking her lips, she leapt to the floor and rushed towards the nearest crate she knew to contain food. Ripping off the lid in a tsunami of splinters, she gazed at the crates’ contents: countless boxes of Krispy Kreme donuts. Instantly falling back onto her blubbery bottom, Hayley demolished the cardboard packaging and began shovelling donuts into her cavernous maw. So sweet, so succulent, so… filling! After the first hundred or so, the Hunger lessened ever so slightly and so did the pain, but it was far, far from gone. Hayley needed more, so much more. She stopped chewing altogether, swallowing large chunks of sticky dough, felt them fall down her throat and pile up inside her stomach, felt it stretch and swell, and it felt incredible. It was as if all the sugar she was eating was coursing though her body, making it sweet, tingly, blissful, despite the Hunger, the pain—

“It’s Darkwolf!”

Hayley heard Lonnie’s cry and dropped her latest donut straight to the floor. Crooks of all kinds in Blackwater feared that name. Darkwolf, the city’s lone lawman, the urban predator, the most terrifying superhero of all. Surrounded by crates, she couldn’t see the vicious vigilante, and she hoped she could keep it that way; she’d prefer a bullet to the head than an encounter with him any day.

As quietly as she could, Hayley tried to sneak out of the building, trying her best to ignore the thuds and screams echoing within its walls. She had to get out, she couldn’t face him, not Darkwolf, not him, but—

The Hunger.

Hayley supposed one more donut couldn’t hurt.

But one donut became ten. Ten became twenty. Twenty became fifty, and Hayler once again lost herself in her gluttony, so much so that she barely noticed when the sound of the fighting stopped. She just kept eating, and eating, until suddenly, a shadow fell over her face. At that, Hayley swallowed hard, and tentatively gazed upwards. She knew who that shadow belonged to.

The man was shorter than Hayley expected, but no less intimidating. His black hand wraps, his black split-toe boots, his bulging biceps and lean, sturdy physique: his whole appearance illustrated all too clearly his invincibility in combat. With his arms crossed and his wolf-like helmet revealing none of his features, he exuded confidence and relentlessness.

“I suppose you must be this infamous food-thief,” he growled, his voice soft yet gravelly.

“The Pigwoman, yeah,” Hayley quipped, before she really had time to consider her response. 

“The greediest girl in America, heard it all before…” Hayley hoped he couldn’t hear the fear in her voice beneath all her quick-witted bravado, but he probably did. The Wolf heard all, saw all. He could not be escaped. And yet, at Hayley’s comments, he seemed… surprisingly awkward.

“I’m not calling you that,” he said, turning his head, “it’s offensive.”

“Aww!” Hayley smiled sweetly, her lips shaking slightly. “So you do care! how kind!”

“No, not like that,” he snarled, quickly.

“Like what?”

He ignored her.

“Just because I respect you doesn’t mean I won’t stop you.”

“Then why haven’t you stopped me already?”

“Um…” Darkwolf seemed uncomfortable. “Your sweater…”

“Damn!” It really had been too snug. Over the course of the night it had ridden all the way up Hayley’s mountainous belly to the point that her navel was fully on show. Hayley tried in vain to tug the sweater down once again, but it was no use: whatever she did, a pale overhanigng roll of fat poked cheekily out the bottom. Still Hayley was grateful that this unflinching crimefighter, of all people, had pointed it out. “I had no idea you were such a gentleman!”

“There weren’t be anything gentlemanly about me if you don’t come quietly.”

“You think that kind of talk’s going to get you dates?”

“That’s not what—” He seemed flustered again, off-guard, and Hayley saw her opening. She crouched down, and sprung high into the air, her bulky body bursting through the iron ceiling like a cannonball before landing with a loud thud outside. For all his ninja-like abilities, Hayley knew Darkwolf couldn’t follow her, not with her powers, whatever they were. So she didn’t fear him chasing her as she fled into the night; instead she laughed. Who knew Darkwolf was so awkward? He certainly hadn’t acted that way around Rick and Lonnie though, it was as if there was something about Hayley…. Her size? No, he wasn’t fatphobic, at least not consciously or else he wouldn’t have been so chivalrous, but all the same that naughty little belly roll seemed to unnerve him somehow, distract him. He hadn’t seemed disgusted, more ashamed, and not for her, but for him. As if he was in the wrong for gazing on it. As if it made the uncompromising hero feel flawed. As if it…

No.

That was ridiculous.

But then again, it was the only explanation. Hayley had seen the signs enough times before.

Darkwolf was a chubby chaser.

And that gave her an idea.


	2. Chapter 2

It seemed to take forever for the parcel to arrive. In actuality it was only a few days, but the Hunger turned every moment not spent eating into an agonising eternity. But Hayley wouldn’t quench it properly, not until the parcel arrived: she needed it for her next heist.

She needed it, to be reborn.

When it did finally appear in her mailbox, Hayley squealed in excitement, so loudly as to incur the wrath of her landlord. She barely noticed his angry yelling however, as she scurried back into her flat. It may have been cramped, wet with damp and long-forgotten stains, but it would soon be elevated to something grander by the transformation that would occur within that. That transformation began when Hayley tore open the parcel.

Inside lay a bright-pink PVC catsuit, with a long zipper down the front. It’d taken ages to find a store selling such outfits in her size, let alone in that colour, so the knowledge that she’d be ruining it made Hayley a little sad. However, she knew the alterations would be worth it in the end.

After trying the suit on, Hayley was able to get an exact idea of the alterations that needed to be made. Firstly, the waist would need to be let out— a lot. The upper arms needed loosening too. Fortunately, Hayley had anticipated this, and ordered additional material that she’d be able to use to modify the suit. For the first time, she thought chuckling, Miss Michael’s stupid sewing lessons had come in useful.

After a few hours and several bleeding fingertips, the suit was finally finished, and Hayley couldn’t wait to try it on. Once she’d pulled it past her plump, pillowy legs and over the immense shelf of her ass, fitting into it was easy. Her alterations meant that her flabby forearms and blubbery belly had ample room to jiggle and sway, even within the confines of the fabric. After tugging the zipper to the top with a struggle, Hayley stepped into her black thigh-high flat-heeled leather boots, similarly altered to account for her colossal calves, and slipped on black leather gloves. The cowl, her own creation, completed the look with two floppy pink ears and an accompanying snout. Its sides may have squeezed Hayley’s chubby cheeks a little too tightly, but that only enhanced the overstuffed appearance she was aiming for. She felt enormous; she felt ridiculous, like Winnie the Pooh stuck in the rabbit hole.

And yet, somehow, she felt sexy.

She couldn’t quite fathom why, but ultimately that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Darkwolf, the feedist-freak he was, would be distracted long enough to let Hayley escape. Any advantage she could gain over the ruthless vigilante needed to be utilised. Steeling herself for more awkward flirting, Hayley squeezed out her window and leapt into the night.

Tonight’s target was Siegel and Shuster’s Bakery, a large factory in the Blackwater outskirts manufacturing all kinds of fattening goods. Cakes and cookies, Danish and donuts: a feast fit for a fledgling supervillain. The family-run business wouldn’t ship until morning in order to observe Shabbat, which gave Hayley a two-days stockpile of sweets to sink her teeth into. There wouldn’t even be any guards!

Except, of course, Darkwolf.

Breaking into the bakery was a cinch: after tearing open a garage door like a candy wrapper, Hayley could begin her binging. But where to start? So many sweets, so little time. Hayley shut her eyes, and let her nose guide her. After dashing after countless succulent sense, she eventually found herself facing a huge crate of cupcakes, and could hold the Hunger in no longer. There were so many different flavours, all being eaten at once: so delicious, so decadent! And soon they were joined by sugary pastries and other treats, all of them coalescing together in her mouth to form a heavenly gestalt of succulent tastes and textures. It went on for hours and hours, but Hayley didn’t notice the time: only the glorious goings-on in her mouth, and the wonderful swelling of her stomach. Before she knew it, she had finished almost every crate in the factory: only one remained, an enormous container of cookies, just begging to be consumed…

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Hayley remembered that voice; so strong, so harsh, yet so alluring. Hayley stood up to face the stranger, and noted with glee the way he squirmed in his costume at the sight of her.

“Like the new look?” she smirked, wiping crumbs from her lips.

“It’s… distinctive,” Darkwolf stammered, turning his head away from her.

“Damn!” Hayley stomped foot, and felt waves of cellulite ripple up her lard-ridden legs. “You hate it don’t you?” she whimpered, teasingly.

“No, not at all, I think it’s—”

“Be honest.” Hayley turned around, and playfully slapped her enormous ass, which jiggled all over. “Does my butt look big in this?” she winked.

“Um…” Darkwolf seemed so much less mysterious in his flustered state, but no less alluring. If anything, these glimpses of humiliated humanity made him even more appealing.

“Tell me what you really think,” Hayley continued, “tell me what you think of this fat piggy squeezed into this teeny-tiny costume. Tell me what you think of my voluptuous breasts, my enormous jiggly belly…” She grabbed her overfed overhang and wobbled it up and down, shaking the entire sloshy mass of her supersized stomach. She wore she could see Darkwolf’s erection beneath his costume.

“I think… I think I’m going to have to take you in.”

Hayley sighed.

“Oh, Wolfie. Just when things were getting interesting…”

With a powerful, jiggly jump, Hayley burst through the factory ceiling, and gazed down at Darkwolf.

“Bye bye, blubber lover!”. She waved, before jumping again, and fleeing across the city rooftops. She could hear Darkwolf behind her, desperately trying to pursue, but he couldn’t keep up with her plump yet powerfull legs. He panted and panted, whilst she laughed.

Eventually she lost him altogether, and sat down on the edge of a rooftop. Thank goodness she had time to stash a few treats between her breasts; she needed a snack after such hard work. The cookies were no different to those she’d just eaten, but somehow, after all she’d just been through, they tasted even sweeter. She wasn’t Hayley Homme anymore, shy, weak and starving. Now she was something sexier, something stronger. All the food in Blackwater was at her mercy, the city’s greatest superhero was no more than her plaything. The Hunger could never hurt her again, not now every treat was hers for the taking. She had tamed it, she had tamed Darkwolf, she had tamed herself, transformed herself into an unstoppable engine of appetite. She was fearless, flabtastic, she was the Pigw-

No.

No, she didn’t like that name. Darkwolf was right. It was demeaning, just like the suit. She only dressed this way as a means to an end after all, regardless of how weirdly self-confident it made her feel. She wasn’t Pigwoman, she never would be; she was just a woman, she was Hayley, and she was no less invincible for that.

But whatever she was, she was still hungry.

Hayley patted her stomach affectionately, and let out a small burp. She supposed there couldn’t be any harm in hitting another joint tonight…

MEANWHILE...

“My son?”

Aleki wished the Benefactor wouldn’t call him that; they weren’t at all related, so his propensity for it was pretty creepy. Unfortunately, Aleki dared not tell his boss this.

“You wanted me sir?”

The Benefactor coughed, loudly.

“You wanted me, father,” he corrected Aleki, his voice cold and deliberate.

“Sorry father.”

“I wouldn’t want you to think I’m uptight,” he said, uncomfortably sincerely, “I just like to be reminded how—” He never finished the sentence, interrupted by one of his occasional coughing fits. Aleki felt guilty watching the creature writhe as he did, but he’d learned the hard way before never to offer the Benefactor help.

“It’s okay, father,” Aleki said, once the coughing ceased. “Now, why did you call me?”

“I have called you, Alex, because I have a task for you. And I am truly sorry to ask so much of you,” he wheezed, “you are so good to me, but I need your help.”

Aleki hated being reminded of his life as Alex, but he didn’t say so. He could only be who the Benefactor wanted him to be now, after all.

“I’ll step up,” he replied, forcing his signature smirk, “what’s cooking?”

“A new obstacle to our plan has presented itself. Darkwolf.”

“Skinny little runt, he’s no problem.”

“Not at the moment, but his newfound… proximity to our family threatens to change that. He must be… cast out for his impudence.”

“No sweat, I’ll whup his ass.”

“I shall leave the details to you, because I trust you most dearly. All that matters is that he is not at our warehouse on Wednesday. And you shall ensure he is occupied elsewhere, won’t you?”

Aleki nodded.

“Excellent,” murmured the Benefactor, slowly mopping his slimy brow. “He cannot be allowed to tear us apart…”


	3. Chapter 3

Darkwolf was perched on a roof-corner, wishing he was somewhere else.

Wishing he was going after someone else.

No foe had ever gotten under Darkwolf’s skin quite like the so-called Pigwoman. She seemed to have been spawned from his most secret fantasies, seemed so savvy to them as to know instinctively exactly what to say and do to drive the crimefighter as crazy as possible. She was as witty as she was wobbly, a titanic temptress, and yet, behind her blubbery bravado, she seemed to be something of victim; most women didn’t steal massive quantities of junk food after all, not even the types he was interested. That was why, despite the inconsequential nature of her crimes, Darkwolf felt so compelled to chase her over and over: wanted to help her, wanted to be with her…

No. That was entitled of him. Besides, it could never be. Not unless she wanted to suffer.

So, half to get the hefty Mata Hari out of his head, and half for the sake of stopping more dangerous crimes, Darkwolf was perched on a rooftop, waiting for a deal to go down. There was a new face in Blackwater’s crime scene, a face nobody had seen: they called this face “The Benefactor”, and having consolidated control of almost all the city’s ports and begun dominating its drug trade, the crimelord was now focusing his attention on acquiring a variety of illegal chemicals. Darkwolf had no idea what The Benefactor wanted them for: the majority were basic industrial toxins, banned in the US since the 90s and useless for all but polluting soil and creating birth defects. Some of them could be used to manufacture phony plastics, but while organised crime had been taking increasing interest in counterfeit over the last decade, US trade standards forced them to rely solely on imported knock-offs from Asia; in any case, the sheer amount of chemicals the Benefactor was buying indicated he had more ambitious plans. His motives may have been mysterious, but actions were unambiguously illegal, which gave Darkwolf ample reason to investigate them.

Even if he’d rather have been investigating a certain corpulent crook crammed into a catsuit.

No, no, he had to keep his head in the game. In a few minutes, the Benefactor’s men and their sellers would arrive, and Darkwolf would have to leap down and apprehend them all. He needed to find out what the Benefactor was up to, needed to stop it, because whatever it was, Darkwolf had no doubt it would be catastrophic. It had to be his first priority. Nothing was more important.

But what about Pigwoman? As strong as she was, he couldn’t help but worry about her. If Darkwolf ever caught her he’d be fairly forgiving, but he doubted the cops would cut her any slack. He had to be the one to catch her, lest she face a less lenient law-enforcer, lest she get hurt, shot—

No. No matter how comforting her presence was to him, no matter how comforting her hoped his presence was to her, Darkwolf was needed elsewhere. Blackwater had to come first. The Benefactor had to be stopped.

Finally, two vehicles arrived in the alleyway below: a white van and a black sedan, both with fake ID plates, both virtually untraceable. At the same time, the occupants of each opened their doors, and Darkwolf saw what he’d be up against: six men in total, four buyers, two sellers. Six men, and a monster.

The monster looked like a man, his features all recognisably human: all, that is, except his physique. Every inch of it oozed with muscles, each one immense and bulging with raw strength. Veins as thick as ivy lay in a latticework across the giant’s stony skin. He was shirtless, clad simply in combat boots, black sleeveless gloves and safety-orange tights, striped with black chevrons. He also wore a luchador mask that same shade of orange, complete with plastered with a black spearhead-shaped emblem.

The monster’s name was Piledriver, and despite his colourful garb, Darkwolf knew he was not a man to be messed with. He was the Benefactor’s public face and enforcer, and his immense strength inspired more than enough fear to compensate for the crimelord’s lack of public presence. However, Piledriver was no less mysterious than his boss: Darkwolf had no idea who he was, or how he’d acquired such superhuman strength, though he suspected the Benefactor was involved with the latter. Not the behemoth needed it: though they’d never fought before, Darkwolf had seen enough of the damage left in Piledriver’s wake to know that the wicked wrestler was a skilled and intelligent fighter, but that knowledge didn’t deter the vigilante in the slightest.

The only fear the Darkwolf knew was the fear he struck into his foes.

“You got the goods?” said Piledriver, his voice surprisingly soft.

“You got the green?” one of the sellers replied.

They bickered for a few moments, but once the cash and the contents of the canisters had been proven genuine, they were able to shake on the deal. Which gave Darkwolf sufficient legal basis to swoop down and stop them.

The criminals didn’t notice him until the first of their number was knocked out, so swiftly, so stealthily did he move. He tore through the rest of thugs like a tornado, breaking bones in a blur of brutality. All fell before his flurry of fists; all, that is, except Piledriver.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” said the strongman, sounding sincere.

Darkwolf smirked beneath his mask.

“I wasn’t planning on giving you a choice.”

Taking advantage of the titan’s top-heaviness, Darkwolf went for a quick leg sweep, only to feel his ankle crack against Piledriver’s sturdy shins. It didn’t appear to be broken, he could still stand after all, but it hurt like hell.

“I’m not bluffing lil runt,” said Piledriver. “Just make tail and forget about all of this.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I figured.” He raised his fists, and shifted to a more solid stance. He stood there, unmoving, for a few moments: not exactly encouraging Darkwolf to make the first move, but not exactly discouraging it either. All the same, the hero leapt towards Piledriver and grabbed his neck, attempting once again to utilise his opponent’s weight with a flying scissor leglock, but still his foe didn’t fall. In desperation, Darkwolf began beating on Piledriver’s broad chest, hitting it with countless fists in quick succession, but the man-mountain didn’t even flinch.

Then, the inevitable retribution came, as a crushing grip that suddenly surrounded Darkwolf’s skull. For all his mastery of martial arts, he could only squirm and struggled as he was slowly lifted out the ground thrown against a concrete wall on the opposite street. He felt his body bruise and shatter in slow-motion as he lay useless in a Darkwolf-shaped crater, but as easy as it would’ve been, he couldn’t stay stationary. Not when half a black sedan came hurtling towards him.

Darkwolf was able to dive out the way, but no sooner had he gotten to his feet he was speared to the ground by a freight-train of a man, and once again hoisted high off the ground. He tasted far too much of the blood tossing around his mouth as he was whirled around in preparation for the finishing blow…

The Piledriver.

The most dangerous move in all of wrestling. Even when staged, it could be lethal if botched.

Darkwolf was experiencing it for real.

He tried his best to brace himself, but the impact was no less agonising for it. As his head slammed against the asphalt, Darkwolf felt tremors pain of rocket up his spine, turning his legs into jelly. Before he blacked out, he heard a soft voice muttering—

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you…”

MEANWHILE…

Hayley had been hearing whispers all around town.

“Hexaco’s going into groceries!” they said. “It’s gonna rock the city’s supermarket economy! They’re shipping in loads of food, and it’s all being stored in one big building!”

Hayley found it a little suspicious so many of her colleagues seemed so interested in business news all of sudden, but she shrugged it off as them hoping to sound smart. In any case, she couldn’t look a gift-horse in the mouth, especially one so large, so lightly-guarded, as this one. Casing the joint had taken no time at all: there was no risk, no catch. Only the biggest score of her life, and she had to hit it as soon as possible. After all, the Hunger had been incessant since the moment she heard about it.

After one last check of the building, Hayley began her heist by leaping over the perimeter fence. She then waddled as fast as she could to the warehouse and charged straight through its walls: with no CCTV, there was no need for stealth.

Inside, Hayley observed her quarry: more crates than she would count, all crammed full of food. Cakes and cookies, pizzas and burgers, all hers to devour! Hayley could hardly wait, as wary as she was that was all an elaborate trap, that Darkwolf and a platoon of police officers would storm in at any moment and haul her hefty heinie to jail. She ripped open the nearest crate and began inhaling countless containers of cold lasagne. So cold, yet so starchy, so satisfying… where was Darkwolf anyhow? His appearance had become a routine at this point, their flirting Hayley’s favourite hobby, yet as she started on her fourth crate of cookies the lupine lawman still hadn’t shown. Hayley was especially noticing his absence upon beginning her ninth crate of cannoli; normally he’d have interrupted her by now, in that adorably brooding manner of his, so to still be eating felt surreal, and more than a little disconcerting. She tried to shake it off, however: this food was all so good, so filling! The cereal was so sugary, the chocolate so succulent, the doughnuts, so decadent, so delicious, so…

Drowsy…

Her mouth caked in crumbs, Hayley collapsed, wondering where her personal superhero was.


	4. Chapter 4

Revolt was angry.

Revolt had always been angry. They’d been born angry; Revolt remembered the moment well. Remembered tearing their mother apart from the inside-out. Remembered scorching their father to death, along with all the whole hospital. Remembered fleeing for their newborn life as the bad men came, with their guns and their science and their caped colossus. Remembered the trap. Remembered the fight. Remembered the pain.

Revolt couldn’t say how long ago that was. They’d known only the inside of an insulated cell for so long now. They’d had no food to sustain them, no toys to entertain them, only a name: Haber. All of this, somehow, was Haber’s fault.

“You in there, Revolt?”

Revolt couldn’t see the source of the voice. They couldn’t see anything, not in their lightless cell. Yet, they so rarely heard anything either, so Revolt was all too eager to respond.

“I’m here…” Revolt buzzed. “Who are you?”

“A friend.”

“Friend?” Revolt knew of “friends”. “Friends” were one of the first things Revolt learned about when they’d absorbed the entire information superhighway. Friends were people who were kind to other people, but Revolt wasn’t people. Revolt couldn’t have friends. They’d certainly wanted friends, certainly spent hour after hour watching TV and wishing they had their own Joey, their own Rachel, but Revolt wasn’t people. Revolt couldn’t have friends.

“Yes, I’m your friend. Or I want to be, if you’ll let me.”

“You lie…” Lying was something humans did; the President had done it a lot, particularly about his sexual relations with that woman. Revolt had never lied themselves, or been lied to, but it knew the stranger had to be lying. Nobody wanted to be kind to Revolt, nobody could Revolt’s friend, it was impossible. Revolt wasn’t people.

“I get it, you’re sceptical. Can’t blame you. But this? This is sincere.”

Revolt heard a loud hissing loud, and for the first time in ages, saw something. It was a strip of light, blindingly bright; so slim at first, but it grew wider and wider, higher and higher…

The door clicked shut.

Revolt was angry, and Revolt was free.

LATER THAT NIGHT…

Hayley couldn’t say how long she’d been out cold. She had no idea what had happened to her in the meantime. All she knew for certain was that she felt violated, and it was Darkwolf’s fault.

Where had he been? Clearly he hadn’t been the one to lay this trap, or else she’d be in jail and not still lounging on a warehouse floor, a languid blob of lard. In which case: why he hadn’t he been there for her? Sure, he was an enemy, but he was an enemy she could control, an enemy she could trust. Their encounters were comforting in their consistency; he’d show up, turn to jelly, and let her leave scot free at the shake of a belly. He was always there, always watching over her. He was her hero.

Maybe she was being naïve. Maybe it was dumb of her to believe, let alone hope, that she might be more to him than an exceptionally seductive felon. Yet, no matter how much he brooded, in those moments of arousal he seemed vulnerable, sincere. Hayley didn’t want his help, but she liked to believe he was willing to offer it, always…

Of course, judging by tonight, he clearly wasn’t.

She wasn’t exactly angry about his absence. He had no more obligation to her than she did to him, though Hayley supposed none would be needed ideally. Then again, she reminded herself and she sluggishly heaved her hefty body off the floor, he meant nothing to her. He had to mean nothing to her. Sure, she was annoyed, enraged even, but he not with him, definitely not, only with whoever it was that’d drugged her to start with.

So: who was the culprit? A vengeful McDonald’s manager? An overzealous sausage-maker? Or perhaps some random psycho? Hayley supposed it had to be the latter. Nobody hated her, as far as she knew. After all, hardly anyone knew about her. She had no more foes than she did friends. It’d always been that way.

As hard as it was, Hayley decided it’d just be best to dismiss the incident. She wasn’t injured and, thank god, all her clothes were untouched. There was no reason to let this traumatise her; that would’ve only inconvenienced her. Self-reflection was a luxury she couldn’t afford, just another hobby she had no time for.

Not with the Hunger demanding so much of her time.

She needed to leave, then. Run away, go home, binge and chocolate and go to bed. She had to take solace in the knowledge that all that mattered was the next meal. As much as she wished that wasn’t the case.

Still groggy, her saggy hips shaking as she swayed, Hayley started stumbling towards the exit. Then, suddenly, she heard a loud explosion. Still dazed, she looked for its source, only to found several shards of masonry flying towards her. Instantly awake, the ample acrobat dodged out of the way, her fall cushioned by her corpulent bottom. Now even more shook, Hayley gazed upwards, and we greeted with a strange sight.

Hovering in the doorways was a large yellow shape of some sort; it was so bright and blurry that its exact form was hard to ascertain, with the silhouette of sparks surrounding it making that task no easier. Was it alive? It seemed to have arms at the very least, and possibly legs, but there were no visible facial features to speak of. Then again, the shape had to be alive: an inanimate yellow shape wouldn’t wear a leather jacket or a Korn-branded baseball cap. It was alive then, alive enough to have hideously dated taste in fashion; it was alive, it was a they, and it was sizzling with pure electrical energy.

“Where is Haber?” The creature’s voice crackled like static.

“I-I-I don’t know who that is,” Hayley stammered, in fear and awe. She’d only ever seen such strange superbeings on the news; they were mostly confined to Megapolis.

“Please,” the creature whined, their voice whirring. “Tell me where he is.”

“I told you, I don’t know—”

“Do you have an iMac?”

“Not right now—”

“Anything that can surf the net?”

“I have a cellphone.”

“Don’t make fun of me!” the creature cried, lightning bolts shooting forth in all directions. 

“I’m not stupid! Cellphones can’t surf the net!”

“Um…” Hayley knew she was about to regret opening her mouth, but she had to ask. “What year do you think this is?”

“It’s 1998.”

Damn.

“I’m so sorry, but… that was over 20 years ago. I was born in ’98.”

“What?”

“You’ve been gone a long time.”

“No…” The shape grew fuzzier and even more formless. “No!” Lightning bolts flew everywhere, ripping through the air in countless claws. It took all of Hayley’s enhanced agility to manoeuvre her massive frame between them.

“Please, calm down!”

The creature didn’t seem to hear her; lashes of lightning continued to shoot chaotically from their body. They howled in anguish like a dynamo gone wild, unmistakably industrial but no less emotive for it. Hayley couldn’t help but feel sorry for them. She wanted to placate them, resolve things peacefully for their sake as much as her own, but it just wouldn’t listen. So she kept twisting and turning her titanic body through the deadly bolts, every jiggle of her gelatinous flab threatening to cause a lethal electrocution. It went on and on, the creature still agonised, until Hayley started to get tired.

“What are you doing?”

Darkwolf. Finally.

“Some superhero you are,” Hayley snapped, between laboured pants.

“I… I had to prioritise,” the lone lawman mumbled.

“Oh,” she continued, still desperately dodging shocks. “I’m sorry you had more important things to do than save my fat ass! Not like this Jimmy Ray wannabe’s flinging thunder or anything!”

“It’s lightning, not thunder.”

“Can’t you let a girl have her alliteration?”

“Can’t you let a guy have his thank you?”

“I don’t see you doing much— Dear god!” In a moment of relative calm, Hayley was at last able to see why Darkwolf wasn’t contributing much. His costume was torn to shreds, the skin beneath turned violet with bruises. He clutched his ribs with one hand, raising a fist with the other, as he hobbled towards the human battery. “What happened to you?”

“I’m just thankful the freak didn’t shoot his finisher.”

“What?”

“Wrestling humour, don’t ask.”

“This,” screamed Hayley, ducking under a particularly violent volt, “is no time for humour.”

“Which is why I’m here to take this guy down.”

“You’re in no shape to—look out!” Hayley dived in front of the crimefighter, blocking a particularly brutal-looking bolt with her blubbery belly. As she fell to the floor once again, Hayley felt her tremendous tummy tingle all over, then burn, as the energy surged throughout her flab.

“No!” Darkwolf howled, but there was nothing he could so. Still twitching and sparking, Hayley passed out.


	5. Chapter 5

It was getting repetitive at this point. Knocked out twice in less than twenty-four hours, as if at the whims of a peculiarly unimaginative god. At least this time Hayley came to on a comfier surface than cold concrete. Then again, there were still downsides. Hayley had no idea where she was.

She was lying in a bed, but it wasn’t her own bed: that much was clear from the fact her hefty hips weren’t hanging over the sides. No, this bed was massive, and with a mattress that Hayley would never be able to afford.

As she lifted up the silken sheets, Hayley realised the bed wasn’t the only unfamiliar aspect of her surroundings. She wasn’t in her costume any more, instead wearing a tent-like set of flowery pyjamas fresh out of Lana Bryant. She wasn’t in her costume anymore.

She wasn’t masked.

Hayley bounced out of the bed, doughy digits pressing on pudgy cheeks so hard it hurt. She had to get out of here, had to escape, could the window—? No, no, not with so much cliff below, that couldn’t an option. Tiptoeing towards the door, as quietly as she could carrying so much weight, Hayley creaked open the door—

“Aha, Sleeping Beauty has awoken!”

Hayley stood facing a large living room, with an enormous widescreen, a gorgeous built-in electric fire and a wide bay window providing an incredible view over the whole of Blackwater. Sat on a loveseat was a man, naked but for a sweat-stained Harvard tee and a pair of boxers, clinging tightly to his firm, muscular thighs. Even so unkempt, with his black hair resembling a bird’s nest more than a definite do, the stranger had an almost ethereal beauty about him, his impossibly perfect skin encased in a beautiful aura of glistening sweat. He rose, without any hint of embarrassment, and dashed towards his girthy guest.

“Where the hell am I?” asked Hayley, still dazed.

“Heaven actually”, the man smirked, “You’ve died, you’ve gone to heaven and you’re now face-to-face with your greatest fantasy.” He yanked her hand, and daintily kissed it. Even his lips felt strong somehow, in an undeniably alluring way, but all the same Hayley yanked her hand away from him.

“I’m not in the mood for games,” she said, warily.

“I suppose that’s to be expected.” The stranger smiled, a soft, seductive smile that emphasised his chiselled cheekbones. “You might as well be dead though, you had several million volts coursing through your veins.”

“I survived that?”

“You survived that. I know, shocking.” The man chuckled to himself smugly. “But your costume was completely fried, rolls hanging out everywhere, it was really something—”

“I can imagine,” Hayley groaned.

“So you were brought here.”

“And where is here?”

“Here is the Langdon House, and I’m Luc Langdon, Blackwater’s most eligible bachelor and master of this fine estate.”

“Billionaire playboy, huh?” Hayley shrugged, her soft shoulders bouncing slightly. “I should’ve guessed.”

“Guessed what?”

“That you’re… you.”

Luc’s overwhelming confidence turned to confusion.

“I really don’t get it…”

“I mean, it’s always true in the movies, isn’t it?” said Hayley. “Every superhero’s a wealthy philanthropist—”

“Ah. Right.” Luc tutted quietly. “Darkwolf wants to see you.”

“What?”

“I’m not Darkwolf, okay?”

“Oh.” It took Hayley longer than it should’ve to process Luc’s statement “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine,” Luke grinned, “I guess I should be flattered. Or sorry, since the real thing’s only going to look inadequate next to me. But either way, you should follow me.”

Luc led Hayley out the living room and into another bedroom: just as luxurious as the last, but much more sparsely decorated. Aside from the bed, the only piece of furniture was a small piece of furniture which, when Luc pressed a switch concealed within the bottom drawer, revealed a hidden elevator beside the bed.

“It’s a bit much, I know,” said Luc as they stepped inside, “but if you’re going to be a super hero, might as well do it with style!”

The elevator began to fall, and Hayley soon found herself inside an enormous cavern, concealed within the cliff walls. Colossal steel girders suspended a ceiling too high to clearly distinguish. Invisible too was the back wall: the cave seemed to stretch on and on forever into the darkness. The place seemed to exude mystery, and yet it was very clearly a home, complete with futon, workout equipment and a truly massive monitor. It was a home, and the lupine theming of its fleet of vehicles left no ambiguity as to who’s home it was.

“How did you build this?” asked Hayley, in awe.

“We used as many different contractors as we could,” said Luc, proudly. “None of them worked simultaneously, and all of them were given different justifications as to what it was they were building. Legally, this is a wine cellar.”

Politely, Luc walked Hayley towards the monitor, where she saw another man sat on a swivel chair. He shared Luc’s looks, but his skin seemed far more rugged, and marred by countless scars and bruises. He was also muscular like Luc, but not in the same dandyish way: his thighs and forearms may have been smaller than the socialite’s, but that only made them seem less inflated, and more utilitarian. He looked lithe, yet sturdy, emitting an air of tenacity that refused to be trapped in by the network of bandages plastered over his torso. His face, in contrast, seemed meek, with a gentle, narrow jawline chin and cool, grey eyes. Although Hayley had never seen his face before, she instantly recognised that man.

That man was Darkwolf.

“Hayley, this is my younger brother, Lupe.”

“H-h-hi.” Lupe mumbled, his cheeks crimson.

“You were wrong Luc,” Hayley smiled, “he’s definitely not a disappointment.”

“You think?” Luc smirked.

“Oh yes,” Hayley replied, “he’s got just the right kind of face for plopping fat asses onto.”

Lupe squirmed, and swivelled away from the corpulent crook.

“Shall I leave you two alone?” asked Luc. Hayley nodded, and now, for the first time, Darkwolf and Pigwoman were together without costumes, without masks. Hayley had always hoped the moment, if it ever came, would be meaningful for both of them.

Instead, it was overwhelmingly awkward.

“So…” Lupe began, after several seconds of silence, “your name’s Hayley, right?”

“Hayley,” the flabby felon replied briskly, “Hayley Homme.”

“Okay.”

And the silence resumed. It went on for even longer that time, until Hayley could no longer supress her emotions.

“God,” she giggled, “you’re even more awkward without the mask.”

“Um… yeah.” Lupe blushed yet again. “Sorry. Like, you’re really beautiful—”

“You can say fat,” said Hayley, frankly.

“Well, I mean, for me at least, that’s no different…” Then, to Hayley’s horror, Lupe slapped his cheek, turning it even more red. “Sorry,” he stuttered through gritted teeth, “you don’t want to hear that.”

“What?” Hayley had no idea how to react. “It doesn’t offend me, if that’s what you mean.”

“I guess I’m glad.” Lupe shook his head. “It’s just… uncomfortable, you know? For me, at least. I only mention it to make sure you don’t hate yourself for it.”

“Do I look like a girl who’s not cool with being fat?”

“You look like an actor. Putting on a show because you know it distracts me.”

“Damn.” Now it was Hayley’s turn to resent herself. “You got me there.” She paused. “No hard feelings, right?”

“I’m not angry with you. Can’t pretend I didn’t appreciate it. I just…” Lupe took a deep breath. “I just worry about you. Sometimes.”

“You don’t have to. I can handle myself.”

“Well… that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. After the fight with Revolt—”

“Revolt?”

“The lightning bolt in leather. Tried to chase them but they got away.” Lupe was speaking much more quickly now, much more resolutely. “Anyway, after the fight, I took you back here for a medical. As it happened your body healed itself in a matter of hours, but it was worthwhile because I was able to get a greater sense of why you have these powers. Why you have…”

“The Hunger.”

“The Hunger. This is going to be a lot, and probably won’t make much sense, so I suggest you sit down.” Hayley did so eagerly, as interested as the origin of her appetite as in her saviour’s sudden burst of confidence. “Basically, you have total control over your fat on a cellular level.”

“I do? Never noticed it before.”

“You have, you just didn’t recognise it for what it was. You can stretch and contract every individual fat cell in your body at will; in practise, that means your fat deposits function identically to ordinary human muscle, only with much more potency. That’s the source of your powers. When you jump super high, it’s your thigh fat pushing you off the ground. When you lift a car—”

“I can lift cars?” Hayley knew she was strong, but that strong?

“You can,” Lupe continued, “by using your belly like abs and your arm fat like biceps. You’re also bullet proof, in case you weren’t aware.”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“I’m serious. Your fat is so pliable and durable it can just absorb the impact on reflex. That’s how you survived the lightning bolt.”

“So you’re seriously saying I can lift trucks and stop bullets?”

“Yeah.” Lupe shook his head. “Admittedly I can’t verify this, but you’re probably one of the most powerful superhumans on the planet.”

“Jesus…”

“As for your appetite—”

“The Hunger.”

“Yeah, that. It’s a consequence of your powers. Your fat cells need loads of energy to function the way they do, so you’ve got a supercharged metabolism, as well as an extraordinarily elastic stomach. All for the purpose of fuelling your fat.”

“So if I don’t use my powers, I won’t get the Hunger?”

“It… doesn’t work like that. Your body… it’s just completely different, physiologically. Your body doesn’t “burn” fat when it moves, it uses fat to move.” Lupe’s voice began to quicken. “The only way you could ever lose fat is through liposuction, and that’s assuming we find a way to penetrate your skin. And, even if we could make you slim, I doubt the Hunger would go away; your brain is just wired to be hungry all the time. It needs to be to nourish your fat cells, and its going to stay that way even if you get thin.” He paused. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay…”

“The good news is that if we can completely rewrite your genetic code, we can eliminate the Hunger. At the cost of you losing your powers.”

“Great,” Hayley grinned, “let’s do it!”

Lupe gazed at his bandages.

“I… I can’t. Not now, anyway. You’ve got to understand, we’re talking about completely rewriting your genetic code from the ground up: it’s never been done before.”

Hayley was not pleased to hear that. The Hunger had to go. She needed it to.

“But surely it happens all the time!” she cried. “You know, in those lab accidents that give people superpowers?”

“Like you said, those are accidents. They’re random, they’re unrepeatable and it’s impossible to predict how they’ll affect their victims’ genetics: that’s just chaos theory. To cure you, we’d be altering your genetics to match a pre-existing template, that of The regular human. Achieving a specific, predetermined outcome like that… it’s never been successfully achieved before, not in the history of human genetic engineering.”

It had to be possible. The Hunger had to go.

“I’m sorry…” said Lupe.

The Hunger had to go.

“Don’t cry.”

Hayley hadn’t noticed she was; she hadn’t noticed how rigid her rotund frame had become either, not until Lupe’s tender growl jerked her back to reality. She shook herself, trying to shake off her feelings but only succeeding in shaking soft, supple flab. Lupe flinched.

“That doesn’t mean it can’t be achieved,” he said swiftly, “and it certainly doesn’t mean I’m not going to work at it. Tell me, do you have any clue how you got your powers?”

“Got them?” Hayley’s mouth felt strangely sticky, but she did her best to ignore it “I was born with them.”

“That’s… interesting. If we can figure out how that happened it could help with a cure. In the meantime,” Lupe coughed, “Langcorp will pay for all the food you need.”

“Langcorp…”

“Luc’s company. We’ll pay for your food. No more stealing.”

Hayley had experienced so many shocks in the last few minutes, but this was by far the greatest.

“You’re serious?”

“Of course,” Lupe blushed, “meals are on me.”

“Thank you. Thank you!” Hayley jumped up and down in glee, her gelatinous gut jiggling up and down with the motion. “Thank you Darkwolf, Lupe, you’re my—”

“No.” In an instant Darkwolf had turned cold. He got to his feet. “No I’m not.”

“But—”

“I’m helping out, doesn’t make me a hero. Just a stranger off the street picking your groceries off the ground. You shouldn’t remember my face.” He frowned. “It’s more sensible if you don’t.”

“Lupe, you’ve done more for me in 24 hours than anyone has in a lifetime. Of course I’m grateful for you—”

“You shouldn’t be,” he snapped.

“But I want to be.”

“You shouldn’t.”

This sudden dispassionate state unnerved Hayley. No matter how cruel he was to other crooks, he never appeared quite this detached, especially not with his favourite fatty felon. It felt… wrong somehow. Like it needed to be fixed. And Hayley thought she could guess how.

“Oh Wolfie,” she began, purring, “don’t you know that you’re every fat girl’s wildest fantasy?” She grabbed a roll of her squishy stomach and jiggled it seductively, as alien as the motion felt. “Don’t you know how much we want your hands on our doughy, dimpled butts?” Lupe stumbled back into his seat. “Don’t you know how much it turns it turns us on to think of our massive bellies on your lap?” Hayley dropped her bottom belly roll onto Lupe’s lap, felt it press against her pillowy fat—

Felt him push her away.

“No!” he screamed. “You can’t!”

Hayley switched off her sexy mode.

“Jeez, I’m sorry Lupe, I’ didn’t realise you—”

“You wouldn’t,” he snapped in reply. “You have no idea who I am.” He rose to his voice once again, his voice became louder, his speech sharper… “I was born from blood,” he continued, “and until I turned twenty I was oblivious to that. Or I ignored it on purpose, I can’t tell. And that’s the worst part: I can’t tell. He raised me, he pressed his filthy worldview into my skull like it was clay and I can’t shake it free, not completely, because I can’t tell where he ends and I begin. Maybe I empathise, maybe I’m an egotist, I can’t tell. Maybe I want to help you, maybe I’m just a pervert looking to score, I can’t tell. Maybe I’m doing good, maybe I’m lashing out like him, as entitled as him, as evil as him, I don’t know, I can’t tell!”

That last yell echoed throughout the cavern.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “It’s arrogant of me to even bring it up. I should know better.”

“Lupe…”

“Don’t feel sorry.”

“I’m not, it’s just… when was the last time you got out?”

“Last night.”

“Without wearing a costume.”

“Um…” Lupe blushed once more.

“Lupe, I’m a little…” she searched for a suitable excuse, “…a little flustered after all that’s happened. I really need help calming down. Do you think you could take me out this afternoon?”

“I can’t—”

“It’s not a date, I’m just asking for some help relaxing. Don’t really have anyone else to hang out with. What’s say we give it a try?”

Lupe’s eyes clenched shut.

“I’m sorry Hayley—”

“I just want some help, that’s all,” she added. “Not a friend.”

“Well…” Lupe frowned uneasily. “If you’re certain…”


	6. Chapter 6

As long as Aleki could remember, he’d always wanted to be a wrestler.

He remembered the indie shows his dad smuggled him into when he was a toddler, remembered crying quietly in the stands as he waited to see whether his old man would win or lose. The loses were devastating to the young Samoan, but the wins? Electrifying.

He remembered flying to Las Vegas as a nine-year old to see fat cousin Freddie fight for the title. Aleki had known at the time he was supposed to be booing, but seeing the 500lb fatass crush the herculean Canadian was so gratifying, he just had to cheer. It’d brought him to tears for the first time since he was five when the Bulkster squashed his cousin a few seconds later.

Most of all, he remembered watching cousin Wayne on TV, watched his rise to becoming the biggest celebrity in wrestling history. Though he’d eventually become a beloved media icon, back then Wayne was famous for corporate ass-kissing and truly savage smack-talk. Every kid wanted to punch him in the face, but none more so than Aleki. He’d be the hero the federation needed, he’d rid the world of his ruthless relative, he’d thrust that jabroni’s face straight into the matt in bask in the cheering of thousands of fans.

Unfortunately, things didn’t quite work out that way.

Breaking into the business had been hard enough; so much training, so few opportunities. Yet, despite his hard work, when he had finally landed a federation contract he was reminded time and time again that he’d only got the gig thanks to his famous cousin. He lacked that special “something”, he was told: he didn’t have the gimmick, didn’t have the mic skills, didn’t have the look. So, after years mucking around in the murky depths of the midcard, after enduring countless commentors mention his family, Aleki was desperate for anything, anything at all, that would make him a legend.

Aleki knew now he should’ve been more sceptical. Why would anyone give him such miracle drugs for free? He’d happily have paid for them at the time, but the Benefactor had been insistant. They were a gift. They’d make him ripped, strong, far stronger than any ordinary human. They’d make him get noticed.

Sure enough, they worked. Aleki grew two feet taller in a matter of days and watched his feeble physique transform into a sinewy monument of muscle. Within a few weeks he’d caught the bosses eye and, with the company’s top star out due to injury, Aleki found himself being pushed as the federation’s new face in no time at all.

That was the problem, ultimately.

Building a fanbase takes time, time Aleki wasn’t given. In less than a year he’d gone from Aleki Edwards, perennial jobber, to Alex Achilles, world champion, and fans weren’t buying it. It didn’t matter whether Aleki could wrestle, he hadn’t proven it to them, hadn’t proven himself. To them, his meteoric rise felt artificial, which Aleki admitted it was, and because it felt artificial, it felt unearned. It didn’t matter how many corny catchphrases creative made him vomit up, it didn’t matter how despicable the heels he fought were, fans hated Alex Achilles, hated him from the bottom of his goody-two shoes to the top of his lavishly-styled hair. They’d boo whenever he entered the ring, booed whenever he got a spot, booed most of all each time he won. They early cheered when he lost, and Alex Achilles never lost clean.

The company did it’s best to ignore them. They could quieten the crowds in reruns, but as good a corporate stooge Aleki was, eventually the numbers caught up to him. Ratings were down; fans were leaving in droves. Aleki begged them not to let him ago. He’d have happily accepted a heel turn, anything to get fans to like him, anything to stay in the company, but creative point blank refused. He was toxic to the product, they said, a symbol of the sort of inane consumerism even children despised. He was everything his cousins could’ve been, without their attitude.

So, Aleki was Aleki once more, out of work, out of time. Within a few months of being fired the Benefactor came calling, asking for Aleki’s help with… he called it business. As disgusting as he found the work he couldn’t refuse. Those super steroids had come with a catch: addiction, not only chemical psychological. The memories of how good the drugs made him look, how incredible it’d felt to win the world title; those kept him hooked as much as the substance itself. He’d be the Benefactor’s enforcer, he’d become the Piledriver, he’d grind his soul even smaller in the hope that, next time he got his big shot, things would go differently.

If he ever got another shot.

_Meanwhile…_

“Quick!” Hayley cried, her blubbery body bouncing with excitement. “There's more terrorists by the check in!”

“But—”

Lupe was cut off by the supersized siren screaming in his ear.

“Pull the goddamn trigger!”

“I don't think shooting terrorists in an airport is very politically correct,” sighed Lupe.

“It was the Bush era, cut ‘em some slack! Besides, Time Crisis 4 is a classic, I think.”

“You think?” Lupe gritted his teeth as he jerked the lightgun away from the cabinet, angrily grappling with it the games clunky reload mechanics.

“Well, even when this was new on-rails shooters weren't exactly cutting edge. But when I was growing up this was the only place I could actually play games. We didn't have a console at the orphanage.”

“So you used to come here?”

“The carers would bring us all every month. I must've been a billion times.”

“Hey.” A skinny ginger teen had crept up behind the pair, startling even the stoical Lupe. “Your lane’s ready.”

Leaving LAX to be devoured by deadly nanomachines, Hayley and Lupe strolled to the nearest bench and sat down to put on their bowling shoes. It was a struggle; Hayley was used to a lot of resistance from her gut whenever she bent over, but it was a lot more noticeable than usual. It seemed to be hanging lower, getting in the way more. And the shoes: so tight! Had she put on weight? She had been eating well ever since she and Darkwolf began their game of chase…

“Lupe,” said Hayley, still finding it surreal to call the lone lawman by his forename, “can you help me put these on?”

“What?” Lupe almost toppled backwards over the bench, his arms, flailing in surprise.

“You’ll get to touch my thighs,” Hayley teased, “these thick, flabby thighs…”

“No! No, no, no, no!” He took a deep breath. “I… I still need to take care of my ribs,” he explained.

Hayley didn’t buy the excuse, but she didn’t say so. Instead she got the skinny clerk to help her, and the pair began bowling.

It was awkward at first. Lupe seemed oddly shaken after the incident with the shoes, and not even Hayley doing impressions of all the Next Generation as she fiddled with the sci-fi looking interface could illicit a laugh from him.

Not that Hayley had ever seen him laugh.

“You bowl a lot?” she asked, as Lupe got his second strike in as many throws.

“I used to...” Lupe gently shut his eyes. “I don't like to remember.”

“Crap, I'm sorry—”

“Don't be,” he added hurriedly, “they're happy memories, just... tainted.”

“Right.”

Lupe got another strike. Turkeys were an incredible achievement, but Lupe was about as excited as a child gifted a math textbook on Christmas Day. Hayley need to change tact.

“So why’d you do it?” she asked, smiling sweetly with her ample arms stuffed between her pillowy legs.

“What?”

“You know...” she whispered, “the costume thing?”

Lupe shrugged.

“It's not a very interesting story”

“I still want to hear it.”

“You've heard it before. Rich white American asshole takes Brazilian trophy wife, me and Luc were the result. And I hate talking about mum like that, but as polite as they were to each other that's all she was to him... He's in jail now. I put him there.” Lupe snatched his cola from the nearby table, and took a long, cold sip.

“My god, what did he do?”

“You mean aside from being your typical Republican donor?” He tossed the now-empty can aside. “He owned Blackwater. Langcorp started out as some weird neoliberal entity, playing pass the parcel with other people's energy surpluses, but round the turn of the millennium dad had the bright idea to apply that same model to guns and drugs. This was pre-2008, MTM was way less regulated so nobody really asked where the extra profits came from. Eventually Langcorp came to control all of Blackwaters organised crime, all thanks to daddy.”

“Did you know?”

“No, I thought he was a great dad. Certainly spoilt me enough, me and Luc were such smug little brats back then. Luc could tear hair out at an Olympic level but I was the worst one, the kind that give other kids concussions. Would've landed in juvenile if dad hadn't paid for my freedom. But we were happy. As long as we had our Unicrons and our Robosapiens and our Lego Super Star Destroyers, we didn't care how he got his money.”

“So when did you find out?”

“You don't... Find out. You just sort of... Become aware. More and more aware. Over time. And you also become more and more aware that there's something very wrong with it, with him, with you. Just... A lot more slowly.”

“But Darkwolf...”

“I became...” The next word seemed to catch in his throat. “…Darkwolf… when I was 19. I'd been doing judo and capoeira since I was in kindergarten and took up crane style when I hit puberty. None of that meant I got beat up any less when I started, but dad's in jail now at least.”

“And mom?”

“Mum... We don't talk to her anymore. It's... complicated.”

Lupe got up and finally threw again. Hayley smiled.

“Isn't it always?”

The tranquillity of the moment was interrupted, however, by an earth-shattering roar. At the sound, Lupe instantly assumed a combat stance, and Hayley saw him start scouting for a bathroom to change in.

“Lupe, calm down.”

“Just get out of here,” he snapped, “you don’t know—"

“It’s my stomach.”

“Ah.” Lupe slumped to the ground, his face scarlet. “Oh my.”

“It’s okay, I guess you’re just not used to it.”

“I don’t know if I could ever get used to…” He pointed a trembling finger towards her titanic tummy. “…that.”

“Exactly, it was a shock. And that was definitely the only reason you turned to jelly just then, wasn’t it?” She winked, playfully.

“Well, I-I-I…”

“It’s okay to admit you enjoy something.”

“Waiter!” Lupe cried, ignoring her. “Waiter!”

“They’re just shop clerks, Lupe.”

“Crap.” He slapped himself in the face, so hard Hayley flinched. “God I’m a monster.”

“For—”

“Yeah dude?” The skinny kid had returned, now carrying a mop.

“Get this girl— I mean us— some nachos, will you?”

“How many?”

“Just keep them coming until we leave.”

“Um, we don’t do that.”

“You will for a thousand bucks,” Lupe smiled, warmly, as he handed the clerk a wad of cash. “I’ll give the same to everyone here if you can stop my friend’s stomach growling.”

The clerk was flabbergasted, but not for long.

“Right away, sir!” he saluted, before rushing away.

“You don’t have to do this for me,” said Hayley, almost as shocked as the kid.

“Don’t mention it,” growled Lupe.

“I really appreciate—”

“I mean that literally, don’t mention it.”

At that, their old awkwardness resumed. They were silent until the first of what would be thousands of plates of nachos finally arrived.

“Thank you,” Hayley whispered, daintily biting the tip off of a chip.


	7. Chapter 7

It’d been three weeks since she was offered a place at the Langdon household, and so much had happened to Hayley in that time. With Lupe recovering from his beating at the burly hands of Piledriver, he’d been forced to take a break from crime-fighting, which allowed Hayley to guilt him into spending more and more time with her. She wished there was another way, but he seemed so loathe to do anything but strain his body training and strain his eyes staring at monitors, and Hayley couldn’t allow that. She wasn’t just being selfish, she told herself, it wasn’t just that he was so lovely, so warm and cold at once… No, he needed to spend time with her, because those were the only times he seemed willing to enjoy himself. And enjoy himself he had: he seemed to love discovering the places and pastimes that comprised Hayley’s happiest memories, and, on occasion, introducing parts of his childhood to her. There’d been so many trips out, trips bowling, to the cinema, to restaurants… so many restaurants.

“Come on, come on!”

As much fun as Hayley had lazily lounging around in her underwear, casually consuming torrents of takeout and driving Lupe wild, she needed to get these pants on now. Luc was coming, and, to Hyaley’s delight, he was bringing Chinese. The pants had to fit, they had to: they’d fit a week ago! But then again, so much had happened since then: so many meals out, so many meals in, so many food comas…

Too many.

A ripping sound tore through the air like a thunderclap, and at once Hayley’s fearsomely flabby ass felt alarmingly freer. Her tight panties dove deep into her cavernous crack, propelled by her bottom’s backwards bounce.

Shit.

“Lupe,” Hayley cried, “do you have any bathroom scales?

“I don’t think that’s a good idea…” came the tentative response.

“Scales. Now.”

Hayley heard her hero scurry away to the bathroom and rush back to the bedroom. Then, silence, before a gentle knocking.

“You can come in,” Hayley sighed.

The door opened, and the scales clattered to the ground. Clearly Hayley’s added heft made her no less disarming to him.

“I should go…” he stammered, staring at his feet. Hayley took him by his chiselled chin and tilted his eyes towards hers.

“It’s okay to stare. Even if this situation isn’t ideal.”

She stepped on the scales.

“Far from ideal.”

534lbs. 32lbs higher than when she’d moved in with Lupe. She’d been hovering around the 500 mark for so long that she’d begun to trust her supercharged metabolism to prevent any extra pudge from joining her jiggly frame, but now, for the first time since she’d hit a half-ton, it’d failed her. She knew it shouldn’t have shocked her so much. Weeks of eating whatever and whenever the Hunger demanded, and then some, whatever and whenever she felt like: obviously Hayley’s luxurious new lifestyle would take it’s toll. But, as obnoxiously oversized as 500lbs was, it still felt somewhat normal. This new weight? This was uncharted territory, and terrifying territory at that. Hayley was now more titanic than ever before, more monstrous than ever before, and, if Lupe was right, which he usually was when it came to science, she’d be this way forever. Every pound Hayley had gained was another pound she’d never be able to lose. Another blubbery blemish on her body, soon to be joined by even more sickening squishiness. Hayley wanted to throw up, wanted to sink into the floor: no, she wanted to fall through the floor, have the Earth’s crust give way beneath her awful immensity and send her plummeting into the magma below like a corpulent cannonball. She wanted to feel it all melt away, feel herself reduced to a literal skeleton, feel that first fleeting moment when she’d truly feel alive…

“Hayley?”

Lupe was looking at Hayley as if she’d committed some inhuman act of savagery, something so unexplainable as to warrant more pity than repulsion. Hayley supposed she had: she’d certainly been eating like an animal, taking advantage of his hospitality like a rat…

“Hayley, it’s okay. It’s just a few pounds.”

“It’s thirty fucking pounds!” Tears drenched Hayley’s doughy cheeks. “If this keeps up I’ll be bedbound in a matter of months!”

“Actually, that can’t happen, your fat only increases your strength and mobility instead of the other way round—”

“Don’t mansplain your way out of this, this is your fault.”

“What?”

“Buying me all this food, the Hunger’s gotten out of control!”

“I was just trying to keep you healthy. Your body needs to eat this much, would you rather starve?”

“I’d rather be normal!” The words came out rather more loudly than Hayley had intended. She stepped off the scales. “But instead I’m a freak,” she mumbled. “A fat ugly freak, and I hate it. And you know what the worst part is?” She stared deep into Lupe through dampened eyes. “I’m hungriest when I’m sad.”

“Hayley…”

“Save it.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“And you’re a pervert.”

“Probably,” Lupe sighed, “but I just really wish you could see what I see when I look at you sometimes.”

“Which is?”

“Um… to be blunt…” Lupe blushed. “Perfection. I see perfection. I see the most angelic round face, haloed by an adorable chubby chin. I see big breasts that have achieved their impossible size without a smidgin of silicon, and that alone should be proof enough of your perfection. Sure, they might be smaller than your stomach but the size disparity only serves to emphasise how gargantuan your gut truly is, and that’s a good thing: it’s your centrepiece, a monument to your immensity and power. The way it hangs over your cross reminds the rest of us how off limits you are to us, how above us you are, but your sensual softness makes us so desperate to touch you regardless… You’re a goddess, Hayley. A goddess, bigger and better than all of us, and I… I’ve said too much.”

It shouldn’t have been so touching, Hayley thought, yet somehow her depression seemed to drain away.

“It’s okay, Wolfie,” she said, in response to his shame.

“It was creepy, I’m sorry.”

“No, I get it now, I think, it’s as much romantic as sexual, isn’t it?”

“Maybe more so. I just… I just want you to love yourself.”

Hayley smiled mischievously.

“And nothing more?”

“And…” Lupe paused. “…and nothing more.”

“Right.”

“I’m off to shower,” he replied hurriedly, “see you at dinner!” Lupe scampered away, leaving Hayley alone with the scales.

Eventually, having exhausted all other outfits, Hayley was able to squeeze herself into a black flowy dress. It rose a little higher above the knee than she remembered it doing, leaving her plump, pillowy underbelly hanging precariously below the hem, but it left her somewhat decent, which was enough. She was fetching herself her umpteenth soda of the day when the doorbell rung and, right on cue, her stomach let out a fearsome roar.

“You know, I heard that from outside!” said Luc, patting his brother’s shoulder as he was let in. “I’m surprised Lupe hasn’t kept you fed better.”

“Oh, he tries,” Hayley replied, cartoonishly rubbing her belly, “but I’m pretty hard to please.”

“And he’s pretty petrified.”

“Luc!” Lupe interjected, embarrassed.

“She knows it,” Luc winked, “don’t you worry.”

The trio entered the living room and begun their feast. Of course, Hayley ate the vast majority of dishes on offer, descending into her usual ravenous trance as the brothers watched, so awestruck that they barely touched their own food. So, of course, Hayley had to finish their plates, and order more, then desert: every variety of donut Krispy Kreme offered…

“That’s mine!”

The boys had given up trying to talk to Hayley whenever she ate, so the sudden sound shocked her so much that a large chunk of chocolatey dough fell from her mouth. Luc was looking at her through big brown eyes.

“You’ve got to let me have at least a few donuts.”

Hayley blushed.

“I’m sorry, I just get so… hungry!”

“It’s fine.” Luc shrugged, and bit into the disputed donut. “It’s just, if you had any idea how flavourless board meetings are you’d understand how eager I am for something sweet. Anything except stale conversation and musty graphite dust.”

“Bitch all you want,” said Lupe, “I know you love your job.”

“I love the privileges it gives me,” Luc shrugged, “I won’t lie. Sure gets me girls, and I don’t even have to pay them most of the time!”

“Just all of the time,” Lupe muttered sardonically.

“Um, hello? I bedded the whole Russian ballet once, remember?”

“Once. I wonder why none of these ladies ever come back for more?”

“Because I’m too busy for them, I have other responsibilities.”

“Such as?”

“Such as funding your little crimefighting crusade and doing your research for you! And speaking of,” Luc swallowed his last bite, “I found a lead on the Benefactor.”

Lupe’s chopsticks clattered against the hardwood floor.

“Who? When?”

“Two weeks back, actually—”

“What the—" Lupe rose to his feet, returned to his usual predatory persona in an instant. “Why didn’t you tell me, this could be over already!”

“No,” said Luc, “you’d be over already. Your ribcage was like a Nature Valley bar, what was I meant to do?

“I’d of pushed through it.”

“You’d certainly have tried, and I couldn’t have that on my conscience.”

“But we’ve wasted so much time!”

“And you enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

“I…”

Hayley.” Luc turned to the flabby thief.

“Don’t bring me into this,” she said.

“I’m not, just tell me: has he been enjoying himself?”

“I’d say so.” She jiggled her gelatinous tummy for emphasis.

“See?” Luc returned to his brother. “And it’s okay.”

“No,” Lupe snarled, “it isn’t, I let myself slack off—"

“You’re allowed to be selfish every once in a while!”

“Of course you’d say that…”

Now it was Luc’s turn to be angry. He jumped to his feet, his voice turned as sharp as broken glass.

“Don’t pretend you’re any less self-centred than me!” he screamed. “You’re obsessed with yourself, with your own inadequacies that _somehow_ only you can see…”

“You think I don’t know that? I’m a spoilt brat, taking out my anger on others because I’m too narcissistic to take it out on myself! I’m an animal, a predator, a monster!”

Luc slumped back into his chair.

“And I suppose that makes me the same…”

“Luc, you know I don’t mean it like that.”

It’s chill,” said Luc, even though it clearly wasn’t. “The lead’s there if you want to follow it.”

And he would, Hayley knew that much.


	8. Chapter 8

It was a brisk, blustery night, and Darkwolf was on the prowl.

Perched on a clifftop in Blackwater’s forested outskirts, the lone lawman stared unblinking at his target. It was a large building, large and flat, and all the more oppressive for it: wrapped in barbed wire and finished with security cameras and automated turrets, it was a masterpiece of modernist-fascist architecture. It didn’t intimidate Darkwolf in the slightest; nothing could, nothing except the warm, pudgy hand he suddenly felt sinking into his shoulder…

“Watch your back, Wolfie.”

Darkwolf spun round, and became uncomfortably close to the round face of his corpulent crush, clad in her pink porcine cowl.

“I told you to stay at the house!” he whispered angrily.

“Fat chance of that happening, Hayley replied, patting her prodigious belly. “Couldn’t have my hero getting hurt now, could I?”

“It’s too—”

“Dangerous? I’m indestructible, remember.”

“Too _sordid_ ,” said Darkwolf, firmly.

“Sounds like my kind of party!”

“Not in that way. You don’t want any part of this.”

“They drugged me, remember?” Hayley’s voice seemed much bleaker now. “I’m already a part of this. And don’t tell me vengeance isn’t a good motive because it’s worked for you so far.”

“Fine. I guess you can come along.”

“It’s not _your_ place to say!” Hayley sang, teasingly.

“Shit, you’re right. I’m so entitled, I’m sorry.”

“You’re just sweet, that’s all. Now,” Hayley turned her eyes to the complex, “what’re we looking at?”

“Ever head of Hexaco?”

“They’re going into groceries.”

“What?” It took all Darkwolf’s self-control to suppress a laugh; he had an image to uphold, after all. “Who told you that?”

“Old colleagues.”

“Jesus, they must’ve been crazy. Hexaco’s a chemical manufacturer, used to make bioweapons. Not much market crossover between Karens and al-Qaeda.”

“They sold to terrorists?”

“They sold to everybody, before the Feds swooped in. Most of the higher-ups from that time are locked up now, aside from the founder, Hans Haber: he hung himself before trial. Company was no less crooked without him though. Used to work with dad.”

“Hexaco owned the warehouse I got drugged in.”

“And plenty more warehouses; they’ve gone on something of a storage spending spree lately. Which is odd, according to Luc, because officially those warehouses are empty. According to their own reports Hexaco doesn’t have the stockpiles to fill them.”

“So they’re the ones buying these chemicals?”

“Exactly. The Benefactor, whoever they are, controls Hexaco.”

“But if all this activity’s so shady,” Hayley asked, “why… you know…” She gestured towards the building below them, boldly emblazoned with the Hexaco logo in bright-blue lights. “Why so obvious?”

“They haven’t used shell companies either; the records are completely legit, which is how I somehow missed this lead.”

“Either they’re trying to seem unsuspicious,” Hayley smiled, “or they’re as dumb as you are.”

“No,” Darkwolf shook his head, “corporate politics is never that complicated, or that stupid. I think the explanation’s simple: they _want_ to be noticed. Whatever it is they’re up to, they want their name on it.”

“And what are they up to?”

“No idea. But this research facility happens to contain their entire computer mainframe, so if we can break in, we can find out.”

“Then what’re waiting for?” Before Darkwolf could stop her, the flabtastic Pigwoman leapt off the cliff and landed with a soft thud on the ground, her fall cushioned by her cuddly backside. Without the luxury of superhuman fat cells, Darkwolf had to descend with the help of his trusty grapple, biting his lip and praying the porky hero wouldn’t cause too much of a ruckus. This needed to be done stealthily, they were so many cameras, so many guards, all armed to the teeth, not to mention the automated turrets…

Finally, Darkwolf dropped elegantly to the floor, and immediately dashed towards the complex. Vaulting over the fence with a silent somersault, the vigilante took cover behind a guard tower as a patrol passed. Once he was sure it was safe, Darkwolf scaled the tower and tossed its occupant over the edge by the ankle. Once inside the tower proper, he noticed the monitors, and realised with glee that from here he could access all the exterior security systems: cameras, turrets… floodlights.

Darkwolf did his best work in blackness.

Grinning beneath his mask, Darkwolf begun his hunt. Noticing a nearby power line, he jumped to it and clung on tightly through insulated split-toe boots. As he quietly crept across its length, the urban predator felt his eyes slowly narrow, his fists slowly clench, all in anticipation of the skeletons that would inevitably stroll beneath him, begging to be shattered…

But the guards never came.

It was odd: they’d passed this spot on patrol once before already, so they had to be back at some point. And yet, minutes passed, without a single guard. Gliding to the building’s roof, Darkwolf circled the exterior, searching for a skull to smash: nothing. Then he saw her.

“What took you so long?”

Beneath the bulky behemoth lay a pile of unconscious bodies, slowly being flattened into a disc by 530lbs of flab. Darkwolf wished so badly to be a part of that pile, before he remembered the gravity of their situation.

“The security systems—!”

“Don’t sweat it Wolfie,” said Hayley, admiring her fatty fingers. “It was all over so fast, and you didn’t hear anything, did you?”

“But how—”

“I’m a thief, remember? I’m stealthier than I look. Now come on,” Hayley slid down the stack of bodies, sending ripples through her ample ass that flowed unimpeded all the way up to her enormous overhanging belly. “Let’s head inside!”

Hayley skipped towards the building, supple flesh shaking all over, as Darkwolf trotted behind. Before he could protest, she’d torn the front doors of their hinge and let them fall with a heavy clatter to the floor. Darkwolf flinched, expecting alarms: none came.

“You’re lucky nobody heard that.”

“I’m just lucky!” The hefty hero winked mischievously. For all her bluster, however, she was perfectly willing to adopt Darkwolf’s stealthier approach as the pair snuck through the complex, content to hide her heavy body in the shadows as he quietly choked security guards unconscious. Occasionally, if Darkwolf returned her glances to give the go-ahead, she’d join in on the silent violence, effortlessly stunning hapless guard with a single strike of her super-strong fist. Despite her size, Darkwolf noted, she really could be surprisingly stealthy.

Eventually, the duo reached the computer mainframe, and as confidently strolled towards it a question crossed Darkwolf’s mind.

“I’ve got to ask: why back in the costume?”

“Well,” Hayley shrugged, “Luc was so kind as to make me a replacement, I couldn’t exactly refuse.”

“But really, why… why demean yourself like this?”

“I don’t know, I guess… I guess I kind of like the way it fits me.”

“It doesn’t exactly fit very well, what with—” The vigilante stopped himself at the last second. Shit. _Shit!_ “I’m so sorry,” he stammered swiftly.

“No, you’re right,” Haley sighed, patting her recently-enlarged belly. The catsuit really was noticeably tighter around it than before, with countless bulging rolls threatening to burst free from the fabric. “But it still feels amazing to wear, even if its too tight now. Like a really comfy nightgown, only it’s not _really_ comfy, just armoured, but not _really_ armoured… Does that make any sense?”

“A bit, I think.”

Desperate to escape the awkwardness, Darkwolf opened the doors to the computer room, and was surprised a to see a familiar formless face, still shadowed with a Korn-branded baseball cap.

“No way,” Revolt buzzed, tendrils of electricity penetrating every available port, “I always thought it’d be the Backstreet Boys that produced solo stars, not NYSYNC—”

“Stay focused!” snapped an unseen voice, fearsome and feminine.

“But I’ve missed so much, look! Joey got his own show!”

“You can skip that one,” Darkwolf interrupted, sending Revolt flying to the corner of the ceiling in shock.

“Real _Joanie Loves Chachi_ -level shit,” Hayley added.

“You!” the living lightning bolt hissed. “You hurt me!”

“I did?” Hayley couldn’t remember so much as touching Revolt; one blast of his electrical body had been enough to knock her out cold.

“You hurt my feelings!” they explained. “Not cool!”

“I’m sorry, Revolt—”

“Talk to the hand!” Revolt send a huge blast of yellow lightning towards Hayley, which as it approached split into five finger-like bolts. Hayley tried to dodge Revolt’s galvanic grasp, but it moved to fast, and before she knew it she was entrapped in electricity, suspended in the air as several million volts wrapped themselves around her and coursed through her veins…

It tingled, slightly.

Hayley was as stunned as Revolt. His blasts had knocked herout before, nearly killed her, but this time, they barely hurt. Had he weakened?

“You’re heavier!” Darkwolf cried, dodging darts of lightning. “You’re 30lbs heavier!”

Heavier… That was it! Lupe had said Hayley’s powers would grow with every pound she gained. He’d clearly been right: all that added adipose made her so much more resilient that Revolt’s jolts now barely hurt her. She’d grown in strength as well as size, become as powerful as she was plump… the realisation was strangely exhilarating. Maybe, Hayley thought, weight gain did have its upsides.

“I’m gonna to do to you what Robert Patrick did to _X-Files_!” she cried, flying towards the voltaic villain with fists forward. Finally, she’d be getting _some_ kind of payback.

“Wait!” The disembodied voice returned, and Darkwolf and Pigwoman stopped fighting in confusion. “We’re on your side,” it pleaded.

“And who’s we?” Darkwolf asked.

Suddenly, a Sharpie that had been resting on a desk begun floating. It rose slowly, before drawing a cartoonish pair of glasses and moustache on… something. Something otherwise invisible.

“I’m Paulie,” the voice explained, “and I guess I have some explaining to do.”


	9. Chapter 9

Paulie had never been able to work out how she’d survived until adulthood.

No parents, no guardian figures at all; nobody even aware of her existence. The question puzzled even more once she learned via Dickens about food and drink. That was a terrifying day, as Paulie began to wonder if she’d already died, before realising that if she hadn’t eaten until now, she probably didn’t need to. She was certainly strange enough in other respects.

Paulie had no reason to doubt that she’d always been completely invisible. After all, when she did finally track down her birth records, she discovered she’d been assumed a stillbirth. She must’ve laid on the table for several hours before being knocked off by some oblivious midwife. She was probably kicked around like a football for a few days after that, until she finally learned to crawl and hobbled her way out the hospital, shins wet with thick, glassy blood. After a few lonely years sleeping in the streets, young Paulie finally mustered enough bravery to step indoors once again, and so made a home for herself in the first building she found the courage to enter: Blackwater Municipal Library.

The beanbags in the children’s section were her bed. The books, her friends, once she’d taught herself to read. Speaking came much later, but it made scaring all the more satisfying. Scaring, yes: of course, stories begun to circulate that the library was haunted, and while at first she was as terrified of the teens that came searching for her as they were of her, soon she began to derive a certain mischievous pleasure from building her own legend. She’d flutter books through the air, wail catchphrases she stole from the Bronte sisters, and giggle loudly as even the most macho of jocks started screaming. It was silly, Paulie knew that even when she started, but it was nice to be noticed. Besides, she owed it her identity: whilst she’d been dubbed “The Blackwater Poltergeist”, which made her realise for the first that a name was something she probably needed. Ever pleased with puns, she named herself Paulie Geist (Paula sounding a little too old-lady-ish), and the name stuck. Not that anyone but herself had ever called her it, but she liked it, and that had to suffice for her.

But all the same, she couldn’t help but imagine someone besides herself saying it. How glorious it would be to be spoken to, not as a spirit, but as a girl. To have friends that weren’t fictional, toys that weren’t stolen from the lost-and-found, a family beyond the books. It took Paulie a scary amount of time to realise she had to have had parents (sex ed was something she stumbled unto long after the panics of puberty had ended), but once the connection had been made the rest of her education had to be put on hold. The Bennets were abandoned, _Domby and Sons_ left dog-eared as Paulie dove into the city’s archives, hoping to find some lead on her parents, anything…

What she found instead was that she really ought to have studied history harder.

Several weeks later, after schooling herself in degree-level history Paulie was ready to try again, rifling through filing cabinets whenever the room was empty (which was most of the time). She needed to find her parents: only they could touch her, _really_ touch her, not just brush the backs of their hands against her hips. Only they could bring her to life.

Paulie was overjoyed when she finally found “her” medical records; or, at least, the records pertaining _to_ her. She did indeed have parents, to of them, and they were still married. Best of all, they had a daughter. Paulie had a twin. A twin! As bitter as she felt that of the two womb-mates she’d been the one saddled with a mutation and incorrectly assumed stillborn, her unexpected joy at simply having a sibling far outweighed that emotion. They could read to each other, share gossip, be friends! Thank goodness, she thought, they still lived in Blackwater.

So, for the first time in twenty-years, Paulie left the library. Those first steps were more terrifying than she expected, but thoughts of family helped her push through the fear. They city was loud, and grimy, so many people rubbing against her, but she blocked it all out. She needed to find them. She _had_ to.

And she did.

Except… Paulie hadn’t thought this far ahead. What to do? How to introduce herself? How to even be noticed? The door, knocking on the door; that’s what people did, wasn’t it? The wait was agonising: it was hard to say whether Paulie’s teeth chattered from her nerves or the cold that day, as she shuffled in place on the snowy doorstep. When the door finally did open, the need for warmth was so strong that Paulie instantly embraced its opener, without even looking at them.

They seemed taken aback.

“Mom?”

It had to be her, she was the right age: and she was beautiful! Such gorgeous nutmeg hair, so bouncy: had Paulie inherited that hair? Did she too have that elegant nose, those plump lips, those freckles? The possibility of possessing any of them was exciting enough, but it couldn’t compare to the bliss of having this woman in her arms. Her skin was soft and wrinkled, but its texture was comforting somehow: it felt like mother. _Her_ mother. Paulie had a mother!

“What the fuck?”

Paulie’s mother screamed, and shoved her invisible daughter away before fleeing up the stairs. Paulie called after her, ran after her, saw her crying into the hairy arms of a bulky man in a cheque-shirt. He was covered in bushy hair everywhere but his head, distinguished most of all by his enormous moustache: he even _looked_ like such a dad! Her dad! She had a dad!

“Honey,” he cooed, “you’re just stressed.” He stroked her hair back and forth, hissing gently; would he do the same for Paulie? She had to know!

“Mom, dad, I’m your daughter!”

“Wha—”

“You can’t see me, I was… hang on…” Paulie rushed into a bedroom, tore open a wardrobe and draped herself in a blue summer dress, covered in daisies. She returned to her parents. “It’s me!” It was her! Their daughter!

The woman fainted.

“Get out,” the man growled.

“But dad—”

“Don’t call me that, you freak! Get the hell out!”

“But dad—”

“Get out or I call the cops! Or fuck it, the Feds, whoever it is that deals with creatures like you!”

“I’m not gonna hurt you—”

“Get out!”

He grabbed her by the top of the dress and pushed her down the stairs. Paulie tumbled down, bruising more and more as she bounced, before collapsing in a heap at the bottom. As she gazed skywards in a daze, she saw her father had torn off a chunk of the dress; daisies that would soon be thrown into a dumpster. Those daisies would one day be incinerated, their flowery conditioned scent consumed by industrial stench as that oft-washed fabric became no more than an especially noxious portion of an already-putrid ash pile.

That day, Paulie swore she would find the people who made her this way, and make them pay.

_In the present…_

“Hexaco did this to me?” Hayley gasped. She hadn't expected her fate to be intertwined with the company’s quite _that_ closely…

“They did this to all of us,” Paulie explained. “Except you Darkwolf, unless you've been hiding secret superpowers all this time.”

“I wish,” Darkwolf said dryly.

“No, you don't,” Paulie sighed. “You really don't.”

“So what?” Hayley asked. “Are we escaped lab experiments or what exactly?”

“We're accidents,” said Paulie. “On the 5th June 1997 Hexaco's central plant suffered a deadly chemical leak, and like any good corporation, they covered it up. Until they couldn't anymore. Until it infected Blackwater's water pumps.”

“Jesus...”

“The filtration systems weren't equipped to deal with that sort of sludge. 204 people died, not counting the cancer cases years later. Or the pregnancies. That's where we came from.”

“So our mothers drunk the water—”

“Whilst pregnant with us, and they all seemed unaffected on the surface, but when we were finally born, we were born...” Paulie coughed. “Weird. And it's all Hans Haber's fault.”

“But Haber's dead,” Darkwolf interrupted.

“You really think so?”

“Pretty sure he hung himself.”

“Could've been faked,” Paulie replied, playfully.

“How the fuck do you fake a hanging!” The crimefighter’s frustration was fearsome, as he angrily clawed the air. “He had to have dangled there for hours without dying!”

“Could've been a body double.”

“And his wife couldn't tell the difference?”

“She could've been paid off.” Paulie wished the writhing vigilante could see her smug she knew her smile to be.

“I think you're clutching at straws…”

It had gone on long enough.

“Haber's alive, okay?” Paulie snapped. “Haber's the Benefactor.”

“Surely you can't—”

“Revolt, bring up the emails. See?” Paulie pointed at the monitor before remembering Darkwolf and Pigwoman couldn't see her doing it. It didn’t matter however: the evidence displayed there was impossible to miss. “Haber, Haber: so many addressed to Mr Hans Haber. And these were sent this week!”

“It must be a pseudonym,” Darkwolf pondered, “an internal one.”

“Now you're clutching at straws,” Paulie sighed. “Two pseudonyms? Really?”

“More likely than him faking his death, do you have any idea how hard that really is?”

“Dudes!” Revolt buzzed in, sending a sharp bolt of lightning rocketing towards the ceiling. “We really oughta bounce, back-up guards could be here any minute, and I need to find out how Frasier ended.”

“Hate to agree with Jazzy Jeff over here,” Hayley added, “but if me and Wolfie are gonna take the Benefactor down, _whoever he is_ , we’d better do it fast.”

“Definitely,” said Paulie. “You too can now consider yourselves Stallions.”

“Stallions?”

“It’s our team-name, blame Revolt.”

“Wyld Stallyns!” Revolt cried, strumming an air guitar. It may have been imaginary, but thanks to Revolt’s electric powers the sound was real, enhanced by the bolts it send flying wildly through the air.

“Right,” Darkwolf growled, “so you guys want in this business?”

“We were in before you were,” said Paulie.

“Right, so you can—”

“And you can—”

“Paulie, Hayley interrupted loudly, “have you got only leads we can follow?”

“Hexaco has an office building downtown and their main factory on the docks. Thanks to Revolt’s hack we have the access codes for both.”

“Wow, you really know your stuff!”

“I've had a lot of free time...”

“Right.” Somebody needed to be decisive, Hayley thought. “Bill and Ted, you two take the offices; more likely your computer skills will be needed there. Me and Wolfie can handle the factory.”

“ _We_ can handle the factory?” Darkwolf’s soft roar sounded incredibly threatening on the surface, but Hayley could hear the slight tremble that betrayed his anxiety.

“You and me makes we, partner. We’re partners now. Because I say so.”

An uncomfortable as the notion clearly was to him, Darkwolf didn’t object.


	10. Chapter 10

Its breadth was the most intimidating thing. It stood as tall as any apartment block, but was as wide as six on all sides: so squat, yet so massive, so impossibly vast. Intimidating too were its walls, each once sloped at an angle steep enough to strike fear into even the bravest of ski-jumpers. Despite their solid concrete composition, they resembled cliffs more than constructions, all unshattered in even the slightest capacity. Chimneys clawed upwards, scratching their venom into the sky and leaving smoky scars in their wake. Cold white searchlights installed at the building’s base illuminated its every angle, and a Hexaco logo the size of basketball court shone over the entrance bridge in a bright bitter blue. It was as if a sleazy Vegas promoter had vomited over the giant pedestal, sending all his noxious neon phlegm flooding down its sides and into the bay below.

It was Blackwater’s biggest landmark, erupting from the ocean like some Atlantean fortress, accessible only by bridge. An impressive feat of architecture, but in all the worst ways.

This was the Hexaco chemical plant.

“I’m surprised there’s nothing past the guard at the gate,” said Darkwolf, as he carefully crept, crouching, along the edge of the entrance bridge.

“You should try thievery for a while,” Pigwoman replied, casually waddling towards the building’s gigantic double-doors, her arms swinging. “In my line of work you learn quickly never to complain about a lack of security.”

“In my line of work you learn quickly if it’s quiet, it’s probably a trap.”

“In that case, better make some noise!” Hayley punched the doors with open palms, and pushed her puffy fingers into the thick titanium as if it were as lardy as she was. Yanking her arms back, she tossed the titanic doors behind her, her flabby arms quivering like bowstrings with the force of the throw. Flying in a long arc like a football, they eventually crashed to the ground right before the guard booth in a heavy clatter. Darkwolf flinched.

“Oops,” Hayley giggled.

“I’d better check that didn’t wake up the guard.”

Hayley waved her hand dismissively.

“You slammed his head into a computer.”

“Good point.”

Cautiously, the duo walked through the fearsome doorframe and found themselves in a surprisingly wide-open space. Any rooms, any additional floors had to be situated to the sides of this space, so massive was it. Towering transparent vats lined its long walls, all filled with various thick fluids. Long tubes descended downwards from these tanks, pulsing with passing liquids as they twisted like sidewinders into the voluminous vats below. Some were filled with green fluid, some with red, some with blue; some bubbled, some fizzled, some foamed. All of them, the pair instinctively knew, could gnaw their flesh to the bone.

The only means of crossing them? A single narrow bridge of flimsy grated metal.

“It’s quiet,” Darkwolf growled.

“If you say ‘ _too_ quiet’ I’m going to slap you. Or hug you. Not sure.”

“I think I’d prefer the former.”

Hayley smirked.

“You tell yourself that.”

At this, Darkwolf fell silent. His mask suddenly felt sticky against his skin, and the urge overcome him to punch someone, hurt someone, but then a response crossed his mind.

“You were thinking it too though.” It wasn’t much of a quip, but Darkwolf was too flustered to come up with anything better.

“Was not! No way I’d be that cliché.”

Darkwolf breathed a sigh of relief. With the awkwardness dissipated, he could nestle back into the cushiony chainmail of his “dark and brooding” persona.

“Those vats contain lethal chemicals,” he snarled softly, “there should at least be _some_ security. It’s the law.”

“Since when did corporations care about the law?”

“When it protects their investments.”

“Good point.”

“All I’m saying is…”

“Don’t—” Hayley snapped, but it was too late.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this…”

Right on cue, hatches in the high ceilings ahead of them opened, and armoured bodies descended on wires. No, not armoured: armour had gaps, it needed to, but these assassins had none. Instead, they had ratchets, and swivels; their bodies moved so stiffly, yet so unnaturally, that though Hayley had never seen anything like them before, she was able to quickly realise what they were.

“Robots?”

Built from some shiny ochre alloy, each android had a glowing green energy-source of some kind in their chest, and a single oval of an eye that dominated their long, narrow heads. On the back of each oversized hand was a funnel-shaped device, connected to twin tanks of green fluid mounted on steel facsimiles of shoulder blades. As the marched mechanically across the bridge, those funnels began flinging a flurry of noxious green fireballs in Darkwolf and Pigwoman’s direction.

“Behind me!” Hayley cried.

Darkwolf dove behind his corpulent companion as her bulky body absorbed the bulk of the fireballs. As his head bashed into her blubbery bottom, Darkwolf felt himself sink into the pillowy layer of pudge, felt the every impact of the projectiles ripple through the flab and gently massage his face…

Then Darkwolf remembered where he was.

What he was doing.

Darkwolf threw up a little in his mouth.

“Enjoying yourself down there, Wolfie?” Hayley swung her head backwards to face him, her second chin swinging a little behind her first.

“God no,” Darkwolf stammered, “that was an accident!”

“And a happy accident at that…”

“No, no, no… how can you be so breezy right now?”

“Do I have to spell it out?” Hayley rushed towards her robotic attackers and thrust her tremendous tummy towards them, sending several flying until they smashed apart against the ceiling. That gigantic godlike gut was still wobbling up and down from the motion when Hayley spun around to face her heroic admirer. Another flurry of fireballs sunk into her prodigious back fat, but her stern, tender smile didn’t quaver.

“I’m a pig. I can’t stop myself screaming, but I can change how it sounds.”

“Wow.” Darkwolf was lost for words.

“I know,” Hayley replied, casually crushing an automaton in her fatty fist, “I’m wittiest when I’m fighting.”

“Good skill for a superhero.”

“I’m not…”

“Look out!”

More droids descended down the wires, and were joined by another army that emerged from the ceiling on the other side of the bridge. The heroes were surrounded.

“Yep,” Hayley quipped through gritted teeth, “this is the motherload alright!”

“Go for their chest,” said Darkwolf as the pair began breaking the robotic rogues apart, “that’s where their ‘brains’ are.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve fought my fair share of robots.”

“I’m sorry,” Hayley said, as she punched straight into a mechanical torso, “did robots become normal when I was blinking or something?”

“Pretty popular these days with the mad scientist set,” Darkwolf explained, toppling several titanium attackers with a single leg-sweep. “Not too common among the rest of underworld, too expensive but weird shit like this never bothered me. I guess I’ve just got nerves of steel.”

For a moment, Hayley wondered if the chrome crunching beneath her massive meaty legs had caused her to mishear the hero.

“Was that a joke?”

“More of an attempt,” the lone lawman replied, regret ever so slightly evident beneath the hostility of his husky voice.

“Oh, Wolfie,” Hayley sighed cartoonishly, “I’m so proud of you!”

“Less gushing,” he snarled hurriedly, “more crushing!”

So on the fight went. They took down what felt like an army of automatons, Darkwolf with swift, agile strikes and Pigwoman with blubbery brute force, but the robots kept on coming. After a nod of approval, Darkwolf backflipped over Pigwoman’ that the two could swap sides of the bridge. The machines’ analytical AI were perplexed by this change in opponent, as some found their fatter foe was more resilient to slow sweeps of flame, and others discovered the thinner fighter was far more adept at dodging fireballs. It mattered little, however; the robots kept coming. A shallow layer of metal began to coat the bridge, vats begun to overflow from the sheer number of robots thrown into them, but the army kept on coming.

“Just how many of these guys are there?” Hayley screamed, panicked. All this movement was making her hungry… too hungry.

“I don’t know,” said Darkwolf, “I’d guess Hexaco is mass-producing these guys as we speak.”

“So they’ll just keep coming?”

“More or less!”

“We’ve got to get out of here…”

They couldn’t keep fighting: Darkwolf was already getting tired, and he could hear Hayley’s stomach grumbling in disproval even over the clatter of disintegrating droids. It was soothing somehow, a gentle purr for all its loudness, and the sound made her all the more eager to flee the fight with her, to feed her, comfort her—no, that was wrong: Darkwolf was getting distracted. If he wanted to protect the gorgeous goddess than the only way was to stay behind whilst she escaped; that was all he could ever do, he could do no more, unless…

No.

He couldn’t ask that of her. He had no right. But Hayley’s stomach was rumbling more and more, not gently any more but desperately. It grew louder and louder, so loud that it shook her whole wobbly body, seemed to make the bridge beneath her shudder, seemed to rattle Darkwolf’s heart within his fractured ribcage.

He had no choice.

“Can you carry me?” he snapped.

“What?”

Darkwolf spoke quickly, not simply because of the urgency of situation; he needed to be free of the words, the thoughts, everything.

“If I ride on your back you could plough through them all and reach that door on the other side of the bridge. So can you carry me?”

“Obviously, I’m super strong, remember?”

“Sure, but are you okay with it?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Pigwoman seemed genuinely puzzled, though Darkwolf attributed that to exhaustion. She had to know by now, but he needed to be certain…

“Are you okay with it?” he barked, angrily.

“Yes, of course I am,” Hayley screamed, “now get on!”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure I want to live! What’s your problem?”

“I can’t…” How could he tell her? How could he explain?

“Just get on!”

Lupe swallowed, and leapt onto the ample angel’s broad back, felt his fingers sink into her squishy shoulders. He was stiff as stone at first, anxious to avoid as much contact as possible, but his weary muscles disagreed, and suddenly Lupe noticed his knees had come to rest in a cosy ridge between Hayley’s ass and her back. Soon, his torso fell forward too, and Lupe found himself sinking further and further into the blissful softness…

“Have fun back there,” Hayley giggled between pants, before charging like a quarterback across the bridge. Scrap metal flew everywhere as she thundered along with heavy footsteps, but somehow, despite the sandstorm of shrapnel surrounding him and fireballs passing within inches of his face, Lupe had never felt more at home in his life. The metallic cacophony grew duller as he grew dozy, and as he closed his eyes and embraced the begun to wonder whether it’d be worse to die now or live the rest of his life denying himself denying himself this doughy nirvana…

Lupe realised what he was doing, and sighed. Why couldn’t he just _have_ this moment? It was other now in any case: Hayley had rushed through the doorway and slammed a button. Steel blast doors feel down in an instant, crushing a few hapless robots beneath them. There was no way any of their number could penetrate walls that thick. Hayley breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

“You can get off now, Wolfie,” she teased, “if you like.”

“Oh, oh god,” Lupe stammered, quicky jerking his legs away from Hayley’s jiggliness. However, his hands didn’t seem capable of letting go, as much as he willed them to: it felt too good, too warm, but he had to let go, he had to get off!

But only if he liked.

Lupe did drop to the floor, but he’d made a decision. Never in all his years had been so terrified. Piledriver? Buzzsaw? Road-rage? All as petrifying as puppies in comparison. Insectoid? She’d scarcely put up a fight. Not even challenging his own father compared to the terror Lupe felt now.

“Hayley…” he began, tentatively, “I was kind of wanting to ask you…”

“Yeah?” Hayley smiled, why did she have to smile? And it wasn’t even her sexy smile, it was just so sweet, so adorable…

“I was kind of hoping… that I… that you and I…”

“Gas!”

“What?” Then Lupe smelt it too, and saw it: a noxious green vapour flooding the room. The duo darted towards the blast doors, tried to break through, but it was no use. All over exists were sealed just as tightly. They were trapped.

“What,” Hayley coughed, “were you saying Lupe?”

“Well,” the lone lawman spluttered, “I was kind of hoping I could...” The hacking grew worse, as did his nerves, but he had to do this, he had no choice! “Well…”

Lupe peeled his mask up off his head and pulled Hayley’s puffy cheeks towards him. She closed her eyes, he closed his, and they kissed. It lasted only a few seconds, but in those few seconds they lost themselves in each other, before losing consciousness together, their lips still locked.


	11. Chapter 11

It was the stench that awoke Hayley. Sharp and bitter, like kerosene, only thicker, so thick Hayley swore she could taste it on her tongue. It swamped her surroundings in a musty haze, flooding into every available space. Its presence was so oppressive Hayley felt as if she couldn’t move.

Then she realised she actually _couldn’t_ move.

Suspended by shackles of energy within some strange metal frame, Hayley was totally immobile. The fog was seeping its way under her fingernails, into her body, burning her insides as it scalded her skin, and she was powerless to escape it. And that sound… That awful, overwhelming, screeching sound, so shrill, so piercing…

_I have climbed highest mountains, I have ruuuuun through the fields…_

A few feet on front of the frame, Hayley noticed, was a steel table, and resting atop that table was an ancient projector, shining grainy footage of some mid-90s U2 concert unto a damp, grimy wall. The set-up wouldn’t have looked out of place in some ironic hipster nightclub, were it not for the smell… Actually, the smell probably wouldn’t have been out of place either.

“I see you’re up?” Glancing to her side, Hayley saw her superheroic suitor for the first time since their impromptu kiss. Darkwolf didn’t seem scared anymore, however; simply exhausted.

“How long have I been out?” Hayley asked him.

“At least thirty minutes longer than me. Or maybe it just felt that long. _Zooropa_ will do that to a guy.”

“Damn,” Hayley cursed.

“You’re lucky,” Darkwolf chuckled, “you missed _One_.”

_An’ I still… haven’t found… what I’m looking for…_

Hayley rolled her eyes.

“I think I’d rather be being tortured right now.”

“Are you sure you aren’t?” Darkwolf quipped.

A harsh, wheezing voice echoed through the room.

“Consider it a gift.” The voice grew louder, as if its speaker was coming closer. “They’re good men, men before their time. You mock them, and yet they’ve done so much for all of us.”

“We’re still talking about U2 here right?” Hayley replied, her horror hidden behind sarcasm.

“They made great music. They fed the world.”

“For all of five minutes.”

“You snicker,” the voice said bluntly, in a slow, mechanical drawl, “but you know they raised millions.”

“For the Ethiopian arms trade.”

“You disgust me.” The unseen speaker started tutting; the sound was wet, metallic, and revolting. “So quick to tear down great men for simply seeking to change the world for the better. If they were as cynical as you, they’d never try, and then where would we be?”

“In a world where I was never stuck with _Songs of Innocence_ on my iPhone.”

The voice ignored her. “You are only cynical because you lack love. You lack love because you yourself have never been shown it. But today that changes. Today, a new age rises.”

“Heard it,” Darkwolf growled, “heard it a million times.”

“I am not some would-be conqueror, brother” the voice, “All I desire is a kinder world. A world where everyone is mindful of each other, a web of interconnectedness.”

“Let me guess, with you as god?”

The man moved closer with clanging footsteps; Hayley could feel his breath on the back of her neck, putrid and cloudy.

“I am not god, brother” he continued. “God is… an individualist. He thinks too small. I, meanwhile, am merely a man. An average, insignificant little man, yet I think big. I am visioneering the future. I am what we all one day shall: beyond good _and_ evil, embodying both life _and_ death. I am an experiment, and you may call me what my father’s scientists called me… I am Biocide.”

The man stepped out of the shadows, and at last Darkwolf and Pigwoman saw the body of the Benefactor. It was tall, unnaturally so, but not muscular in the slightest; the massive ochre armour cladding it did little to conceal how skeletal it looked. Its skin was a gaunt green colour, and covered in a thick slime that seemed to flow endlessly from its bald, wrinkled head to the tips of its serrated, yellowing fingernails. To breathe, Biocide used some strange metal mask that covered only his nose and mouth, discharging a dusty green gas from its filtered front with every rasping breath. The mask was plugged via flexible pipes into two large tanks of fluid attached to the back of his bulky bronze breastplate, and those same tanks were attached to nozzles on his bracers. Clearly he’d equipped himself for combat, but considering how sickly he seemed to be Hayley couldn’t imagine him putting up much of any fight. As hideous as he was, he was more pitiable than petrifying.

“I apologise if my appearance repulses you,” said Biocide, through hacking coughs, “you can blame my father for making me this way.”

“Your father?” Darkwolf asked.

“Hans Haber, you may have heard of him. The villain who covered up his company’s toxic chemical spill to protect his profit margins, oblivious to the fact that his own child would be born a freak thanks to that single act of avarice.”

“So that’s why there are so many emails addressed to Haber…”

“Haber’s not my real name. I insist you call me Biocide. That’s the only name he ever bothered to give me: Project Biocide.” Biocide shook his head, flaps of claggy loose skin shaking. “He did not love me, my father. But your father shall love you.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Darkwolf snarled.

“Daddy issues, I take it? They won’t matter soon enough. Soon, I shall be everyone’s father, everyone’s brother, and I shall love you all. And in exchange you shall all love each other: you shall all be part of one family, treat strangers as you would siblings. In the new world there will be no need for competition or conflict: people will live only for laughter and love. And you, Hayley,” he turned to Pigwoman, “you will help bring about this great paradigm shift.”

Hayley swallowed hard. _He knew her name_.

“Yes, of course I know your name,” the voice continued, as if reading her thoughts, “we are family, after all. And not in the way that Darkwolf is my brother; you and I, we are both children of the same mother, both changed in the womb by the Hexaco leak all those years ago. I was cursed by that catastrophe, but you… you were blessed.”

“I wouldn’t call it a blessing,” Hayley murmured.

“It may feel painful now, but the Hunger you have shall save the world. You see, soon all shall share it.”

“You don’t mean—”

“When we drugged you with those cakes, which I apologise most sincerely for by the way, we took samples of your saliva. From your DNA, we’ve been able to produce a viral version of the Hunger. Anyone infected will become just like you.”

“No!” Hayley cried. “You have no idea how much it hurts; you can’t inflict this on anyone!”

“I’m not acting out of malice,” the voice sighed. “It takes a lot of love to do what I’m doing.”

“Love? The Hunger’s ruined my life!”

“Ruined? You call yourself ruined?”

A sludgy fist slammed down heard on the projector, shattering it, splattering its remains with pale green gunk. Instantly, the same substance began to eat away at the pile of plastic and metal, reducing it to ash in seconds. And it didn’t stop there: within a few more seconds the steel table that had once propped up the projector had completely vanished.

Hayley gasped. Darkwolf merely sighed, his scowl somehow audible.

“Do you see?” Biocide screamed, true tenderness evident within his mechanical voice. “I’m a living chemical plant: my body can synthesise all manner of unnatural compounds, but it can’t stop secreting this acid as waste produce. Can you imagine what that must feel like? To never breathe fresh air? To never taste solid food? To never know how feels to be touched by another human being? But I’m not bitter!” He laughed briskly, barely for a second. “I’m not bitter, I’m benevolent. I’m making the world a better place.”

“We’ll stop you!” Darkwolf snapped defiantly. “We’ll find a way!”

“Stop me?” Biocide laughed again, more confidently this time. “I’m not a Bond villain. Do you really think I’d explain my plan if there was the slightest chance of you affecting its outcome? I did it thirty-five minutes ago.”

“What?”

“Now smile for the camera!”

Biocide clicked his fingers, and the steel frame suspending Darkwolf and Pigwoman rotated 180 degrees. The dynamic duo found themselves facing a camera crew consisting entirely of robots, and a massive, muscular man with luscious black hair. The sky-blue and black costume was new, as was the hexagonal emblem on the costume’s chest, but that familiar physique was unmistakable.

“Piledriver?” Darkwolf gasped.

“No, that’s not his name anymore,” said Biocide, “is it my son?”

“No, father.” Aleki, the man formerly-known-as-Piledriver, formerly-known-as-Alex-Achilles, cracked his knuckles.

“And what is your new name?”

“I’m Hexaman.”

“No, no,” said Biocide hurriedly, “say it with passion, say it with vigour!”

“Um…”

“Do it!”

The brawny behemoth planted his feet firmly apart and placed his chunky hands on his chiselled hips.

“I am… Hexaman!” he bellowed boldly, his brow damp with sweat.

“Excellent,” Biocide wheezed, “now repeat for the cameras!”

“What?”

“Quiet! Now, roll sound.” The robot carrying the boom nodded. “Roll cameras.” The mechanical cameramen all nodded too. “Action!”

“Citizens of Blackwater!” the ex-wrestler began, “I am Hexaman! I come to you in this, your darkest hour, to shine the light of the lantern of the lighthouse of justice into your city’s shadowy depths!”

At this remark, Hayley felt an insufferable urge to laugh; it took all her restraint to do no more than snort in derision. Upon doing this, she heard Biocide whisper in her ear…

“Make another noise, I increase the voltage and you both fry.”

“As you know,” Aleki continued, “this city’s water supply has become infected with a strange virus that mutates ordinary civilians into ravenous beasts, consumed by an all-consuming hunger! But fret no more, dear viewers, for I, Hexaman, have caught the perpetrators! Yes, this despicable duo,” he gestured to Hayley and Darkwolf behind him, “are the ones responsible for your perilous plight!”

Aleki strutted towards Hayley. “This woman, this Pigwoman, is the massive mastermind of the operation. You may already know her, for her crimes are already infamous. So greedy for junk food was this glutton, and too lazy to earn the money she’d need to buy it herself, she began breaking into bakeries and warehouses to steal snacks! We laughed at her then, made her the ultimate ‘and finally…’ for the local news-networks, but little did we know that behind that flabby façade lay a psychopath! Bitter about her blubbery body, she resolved to inflict it upon all citizens of Blackwater, by infecting them with a virus that gives them an irrepressible appetite! She’d have us all be as fat as her!”

“And this man here,” Aleki approached the lone lawman, “this Darkwolf, this snivelling little suck-up sell-out full of suffering succotash, is simply her sidekick! You see, he belongs to that disgusting category of degenerate deviants known as ‘feeders’; strange as it may seem, he is uncontrollably aroused by fat itself! Upon first sighting a criminal as corpulent as Pigwoman, he immediately began grovelling beneath her gut. Partly to please his massive mistress, and partly purely to satiate perverted lust for lardy women, he joined her scheme to fatten our fair city and is no doubt getting a hard-on right this second at the thought of all the damage he’s dealt to Blackwater’s waistlines!”

“But that damage will be undone!” Aleki grinned, his white teeth glinting. “Right now, the wonderful people at Hexaco, responsible for giving me my powers, are working on a solution to this squishy situation. With the power of science and imagination, they are developing a miracle pill, the ultimate appetite suppressant. Just one pill a day and you’ll never feel that horrible hunger again. It’ll be a few days before they’re ready though, so I must make a request of you.” He moved closer to the camera, frowning. His blue eyes widened, but no matter how much he strained himself, no tears came. “Please, if you can, stay at home. If you need to go to work, then go to work, unless you don’t have to, in which case stay at home. Ultimately, all that matters is that you stay sensible, stay alert and stay mindful. That should be enough to stop the spread of the virus.”

Behind the cameras, Aleki noticed his noxious overlord shaking his head, yellow eyes aflame.

“Anyway,” Aleki spluttered, “stay mindful, stop the spread. This is Hexaman, your new hero, signing off!”

After an impromptu salute, the emergency broadcast ended.

“How was it, father?”

Biocide didn’t reply. He merely clenched his fists, sending acid oozing towards the floor like water wringed out of a sponge. That was enough for Aleki. He left, without another word.

Darkwolf, meanwhile, had plenty of words left.

“So that’s what this is all about?” he cried, “a quick buck?”

“Don’t be so vulgar,” Biocide muttered, “you think too small. The pills will cost no more to the consumer than they will for us to manufacture. I will make no profit. I act purely in the name of love.”

“But,” Hayley asked, “why?”

“Synergy,” Biocide replied, as if that were all the answer that were needed. “Reliance breeds resilience, synergy spawns love. With synergy we can build a better world. A web of—”

“We get it.”

“Not yet. But you will. A new age shall soon be upon us…”

“We’ll take it from you,” said Darkwolf. “We’ll cure the virus.”

“There is no cure.”

“Then we’ll steal your formula, leak it online.”

“Impossible. The formula is known only to me. Our factories are all entirely automated, run by robots, and if I give the go-ahead, they all blow sky-high. The formula lives and dies within me. Don’t you see, Darkwolf?”

The toxic titan leaned in close to the crimefighter; Darkwolf could feel his fetid breath flowing through the fabric of his mask, burning his tongue. Then, after an uncomfortable age, Biocide begun speaking, his voice a low, whirring whisper.

“We’re all connected now.”


	12. Chapter 12

It’d been a few minutes since Biocide had left our heroes, but it felt like far longer. Imprisonment does that to a person. Especially imprisonment in an electrical field that totally prevents all movement. Darkwolf had developed an annoying itch on his nose, and Pigwoman had felt her fattiest folds grow hot and sweaty, but there was nothing either of them could do. The war was over, Biocide had won, and the dynamic duo had taken the fall for his despicable crimes. They mattered little to him any more, so little that he’d ordered his robot guards to leave them, presumably because their bionic brawn was needed elsewhere. So, Darkwolf and Pigwoman were left alone, left floundering, left useless.

Alone, with Hexaman.

Aleki wasn’t giving his captives much consideration, however. He was absorbed in the essential task of pacing up and down the dank, grimy room, pondering his change in fortunes. Because it was a change in fortune, he reminded himself, no matter how little he seemed to matter to Biocide. He was a hero, after all, a real hero! Sure, he hadn’t actually saved the city, in fact he’d help land it in its present crisis, but regardless of his actions Aleki was still a hero on the inside; all he’d done was make sure everyone else could see that. Sure, he’d only ever get to parrot what his boss told him, only ever take credit for his actions, but it’d be Aleki who took the applause, and that was all that mattered. This wasn’t fake, not like wrestling: Aleki was the champion of the world now, of _life_ —

“Hey!” The sudden shout snapped Aleki back to reality, and back to the heavy heroine who was his captive. “Hey musclemutts! I'm talking to you!”

But Aleki knew what this girl was trying to pull: she’d lure him close, make him angry, and then somehow spring loose. He’d seen it enough times in the movies.

“I'm not falling for that crap,” he muttered.

“What crap?” Pigwoman smiled innocent, “My crap?”

“That you are!” Aleki cried, pointing at Pigwoman with glee as he guffawed at his own joke.

His prisoners seemed more confused than amused.

“Oh. _Ohhhhhhhh!”_ Pigwoman groaned. Darkwolf merely shook his head. “That would've been a cool comeback,” said Pigwoman, “if I'd have said ‘whose crap, I'm crap’ but then again, why the fuck would I say that?”

“Fuck! I always did suck at this shit.” Aleki begun making quotation marks with his hands and his voice became even more cartoonish than usual “Oh, look at Alex, look at that mark, you can't talk, _you can't wrestle!_ ”

“Wait,” said Darkwolf, “Alex? Aren’t you that guy who was supposed to be the next Bulk Brogan?”

“What? No! I don't know what you're talking about! I'm a completely different guy, just another sexual freak with impossibly large pecs and impeccable charisma!”

“Oh my god,” Pigwoman giggled, “It is you! Alex Achilles! Dude, you’ve gotta be the ultimate ‘where are they now’!”

“How far the mighty have fallen,” Darkwolf sighed.

“Not that he was ever that mighty,” Pigwoman added.

“You know he once tripped up in his entrance? Right over the turnbuckle.”

“I know that when he won the rumble his big cousin came to root for him—”

“And nobody cheered!”

“Stop it!” Aleki roared. “You don’t know shit about the business.”

“I know what a failure you were,” said Darkwolf. “I know nothing about wrestling but you’re a synonym for sucker around the world.”

“You don’t know shit! You have no idea what it was like. I started out with only a name and a dream, that was all I had. Other guys start out with sports experience, with money, I had none of that. They worm their way to the top through locker-room politics, I did none of that. I had to hustle for years just to earn the privilege of a TV spot, and what did I have to do in that spot? Literally kiss my boss’ ass! And that angle was dropped before it went anywhere, but I never complained. I took whatever opportunity I could get, I worked and I worked and I worked until eventually my dream came true. It made come true, made it happen with nothing but the sweat of your enormous back, and you know what? Nobody gives a damn!”

“You didn't work for jack shit,” said Pigwoman, “they only looked at you at all because of your cousins and TMZ said you got fired for being a steroid junk— ahh.” The truth dawned uncomfortably on the duo. The man they’d met as Piledriver had to work for Biocide – lest he lose his fix.

“You get it now, huh? So don't you dare ask how I got this way. To be world champion I made sacrifices you couldn't possibly even imagine—"

“I mean, you just told me about them—"

“It doesn't matter! I'm a hero again now. And I'm not going to let that go no matter no much you taunt me. So forgive me if I don’t let you trick me into letting you loose.”

“Shit.”

That’d been Hayley’s only idea for escape. Maybe Wolfie had other plans cooking in his brain, or some contingency she wasn’t aware of, or _something,_ he was certainly resourceful, and a genius at that…

Noticing her introspection, Darkwolf shook his head.

So this was it then. All hope was lost. Hayley and Lupe would spend the rest of their lives in prison, if they were even permitted lives to spend. She’d never be thin, never be free of the Hunger, never again get to touch the bravest, dorkiest, most caring man she’d ever met… All of it had been for nothing.

Until Hayley heard a familiar female voice whispering in her ear…

“Let ‘im have it, hog girl.”

Suddenly, the electrical grid suspending her and Darkwolf shut off. With incredible speed, Hayley charged into Aleki with massive, meaty forearms. Her weight was such that even the brawny behemoth was thrown off guard, and stumbled backwards a few feet.

“Wolfie, with me—OOF!”

A huge punch to Hayley’s face sent her head whipping sideways; her chubby cheeks did little to cushion the impact. Unrelenting, Aleki followed the blow with a flurry of quick jabs to her fluffy stomach. Each one hit with the force of a freight train, but Hayley felt no pain, only a gentle wobbling sensation that was more than a little ticklish.

“You’re gonna have to hit harder than that, has-been!”

Gritting his glistening teeth, Aleki kept on punching Pigwoman’s pillowy paunch, harder and harder, determined to at least make her feel something. Thick legs planted firmly on the ground, hands resting heavily on hefty hips, Hayley merely grinned as the sweat poured down the ex-wrestler’s colourful costume grew damper and damper with sweat.

“How are you doing this?” he roared. “I’m a motherfucking world champion, no way I lose to a fatass like you!”

“Actually, I reckon I’m more of a heavyweight than you’ll ever be.”

“Shut up!” With each exclamation came another powerful punch. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

“I see you haven’t lost that superstar charisma.”

“Shove it, porkchop!”

Aleki dove towards Hayley with a strong spear tackle, but it never met its target. Instead, the ex-wrester found himself suddenly struck in the chin by a kick from below: it barely hurt, but it was enough to knock him off him balance. With a loud thud, the thug landed on the floor face-first, plowing a furrow in the floor as he slid along the asphalt surface.

“Nice one, Wolfie!” Hayley smiled.

“He’s not out yet,” the lone lawman replied. As if on cue, the titan thrust his beefy hands into the floor and flung himself upright with a press-up. His mouth foaming with spit, he let out a deep, guttural bark.

“I can’t make a scratch on him,” Darkwolf cried, diving out of the way of a shoulder tackle.

“Maybe I can—” With all her superstrong might, Hayley punched Aleki in the side. It bruised—barely. “Nope.”

“You think you can hurt me?” Aleki “I’m Alex Achilles! I’m the best in the world! I ain’t going to down to no candy-ass coward and his fat-ass valet!”

“You’re an ass man,” Hayley grinned, absorbing another blow with her blubber, “we get it!”

“I am not an ass man!” Aleki tore a slab of stone from the floor and hurled it at the humongous hero. Hayley was able to shield herself with a thick, flabby forearm as her canine crush rolled under the resultant hail of gravel.

“Pigwoman!” he shouted, his voice resolute despite his exhaustion.

“Did you just call me—?”

“It doesn’t matter, I can’t hurt him and you can’t either, but with my speed and your durability—”

“Don’t forget my strength dudes!” A yellow lightning bolt darted from the lens of a film camera straight into Aleki’s chest. Fizzling with electricity, he was sent flying several feet, straight through a wall and into a neighbouring room. The duo’s amorphous electrical ally had returned.

“Did I do that?” said Revolt in an oddly nasally buzz, his crackling arms crossed.

Darkwold and Pigwoman had little time to thank the friendly thunderbolt, however, because Aleki had recovered. Enraged beyond all strategy, he charged Revolt with arms outstretched.

“Pigwoman,” Darkwolf commanded, “grab him!”

Aleki’s beefy hands collided with Pigwoman’s pudgy paws, and his muscly fingers become entwined with her doughy digits. Veins bulged and biceps ached as he tried to push the porky paladin over, but despite their squishiness her legs barely stumbled. She was too strong… too heavy.

Undeterred, Aleki kept exerting himself, determined to fell the fat hero, but she stood firm, even as her blubbery body wobbled. The task become now easier as Darkwolf leapt unto his back and begun squeezing his neck in a crushing leglock, whilst pummelling his face with rapid punches. It scarcely hurt Aleki, but it was irritating, which was precisely what Darkwolf was counting on. Infuriated and disoriented, Aleki stumbled around the room as he wrestled with Pigwoman in a waltz of rage, until he staggered into the exact position Darkwolf needed him to be in.

“Revolt, hit him again!”

Darkwolf backflipped free from the fibrous fighter as he was hit with another lightning bolt. Once again Aleki was sent flying, straight through the frame that had a few moments ago trapped Darkwolf and Pigwoman.

“Paulie, now!”

Power surged back into the suspension system, and before he knew what was happening Aleki found himself trapped.

“Wha—”

“How’s that for a hold?” Hayley smirked.

“I’ll get out! I’ll get you! I’ll lay the smack—”

“Heard it.” Hayley turned her back on the brute. “Thanks for the save, Paulie”

“No problem.” If her friends could’ve seen the invisible hero, they would’ve seen her shrug. “Me and Revolt’s office space search turned up squat so figured you guys could use the assist.”

“And while I was surfing the ether”, Revolt buzzed smugly, “I got the 411 on Haber’s whole operation. And guess what? His Hunger virus has a cure, we can synthesise it right here.”

“But Biocide said—” Hayley was interrupted by Paulie sullen tones.

“He lied.”

“But if he could cure the Hunger why isn’t he doing that instead of giving away appetite suppressants?”

“He needs to be needed,” Darkwolf snarled, “constantly. Can we distribute the cure?”

“There’s nothing toxic in it, so in theory we can just dump it in the water supply, same as he did with the virus.”

“Wait,” Hayley gasped, “does this mean I’m cured?”

“Sadly not,” Paulie explained, “the version of the mutation Haber’s given to Blackwater is much more genetically unstable than yours, since its acquired instead of inherent. Curing would you need way more time than we have right now, but this solution’s a start.”

“Later,” snapped Darkwolf, a little sorely. “Revolt, I need you to help me manufacture the cure, and I need you Paulie to help me break into the Blackwater pumping station.”

“And me?” Hayley asked.

“Hayley, I need you to go after Biocide.”

“What?”

“I know, I know, it’s a lot, but you’re the most powerful member of the team outside Revolt, and I need his machine skills to mass-produce the cure. Biocide needs to be brought down and you’re… you’re the only person I can…” Hayley couldn’t see Lupe’s face, but the cracks of his voice told her all she needed to know. “You’re the only person I can trust.”

“But Wolfie…”

“We don’t know what he’s capable of and neither do you. You’re the safest bet to take him out.”

As terrified as she was, Hayley couldn’t argue with that logic.

“I was a small time food thief a few weeks ago,” she chuckled bleakly. “A freak, a human interest story.”

“But you’ve grown so much.”

“You can say that again…”

“Fuck,” Darkwolf sighed, “you know I don’t mean it like that.”

“At least not consciously.”

“Look, what I’m trying to say is, you were never a freak. You don’t have to see the beauty that I do, I don’t know if you even can, but I need you to know that no matter what you’ve done, no matter how many crimes you’ve committed, no matter how many times people laughed at you and called you a fatass, you’ve always been a hero. Not in spite of your body, not because of your body, but because it’s who you are. You’re fat, you’re a hero, and you own it.”

Such praise was alien to Hayley. She didn’t dislike it.

“Wolfie…”

“Save it, you need to get going.”

“But about what happened… between us…”

“There’s no time right now. We can talk about it when you get back.”

“But what if I don’t make it back?”

Lupe pulled down his mask and smiled at Hayley with soft, brown eyes.

“Of course you’re gonna make it back. You’re the flabtastic Pigwoman.”


	13. Chapter 13

As he stood on the steel bridge and gazed down upon the swirling tanks below him, stirring the chemicals that comprised his Hunger virus, Biocide thought back to how it’d all begun: his own tank. How long he’d been in it, he couldn’t say: when every day looked exactly the same it was hard to tell them apart. The same plain people in the same plain labcoats, the same stale CO supply, the same sharp needles: their contents may have differed from time to time but the injections all felt the same. No sun, no moon, only squares on the ceiling buzzing with blinding artificial light. Time was measured in the shifts of the scientists, but that measurement had never mattered. The only important measurement concerned something called “vitals”.

Only afterwards had Biocide learnt what vitals were, what he was: despite the torture, he'd actually been special, somehow. A genetic aberration, with abilities hitherto unknown to science: his heart could manufacture all manner of chemicals. The possibilities were endless: medicines, fertilisers, weapons. To this day, Biocide had no idea how many life-changing drugs had been derived from DNA. The world owed so much, he realised now, to his generosity. If he’d have known that earlier, he might’ve escaped sooner.

Biocide thought back to the day he’d decided to break free. One of the scientists, a portly, balding man, had left a concert playing on his computer whilst he played with a centrifuge. A man in red sunglasses, as wrinkled as Biocide himself, had leapt fearlessly into a heaving mass of bodies, and was carried along by a conveyer of adoring arms. They loved him, Biocide realised, and he trusted that they loved him. Why would he not? He had gifted them with music, and they had repaid him with their affection. That was how reactions worked, how transactions worked: time in the tube had taught Biocide that much. The man and the crowd shared a love for each other, and that love, the man sung, was not worth living without: it was like a temple, like some higher law.

How badly Biocide wished he could know such love.

Biocide thought back to that fateful night. He remembered tearing the tubes off his body with his teeth. He remembered biting his wrists to shred, remembering flooding the tank with blood and pus until it exploded from the pressure.

He hadn’t known when he’d started that his heart pumped endlessly.

Nevertheless, it’d worked, and Biocide had clambered free in a surge of fluid. It was selfish of him, he knew, but had he not done enough to deserve it? Who had ever done more than him?

Biocide thought back to—

“Running out of robots yet?”

There was a loud, metallic clatter, and Biocide turned around to see the flabastic Pigwoman standing triumphant over a copper-coloured pile of mechanical corpses

“Oh, you poor fool,” Biocide wheezed. “You really should’ve stayed put.”

“You’d have liked that, wouldn’t you?” Pigwoman smirked.

“Sister, I was never going to hand you over to the cops.”

“Couldn't trust me not to snitch, huh?”

“Oh, that didn't concern me, I knew nobody would believe you. I wanted to keep you because I care about you.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

“I would've given you surgery, a new passport, a whole new identity. You'd have been free to live the rest of your life as long as you held your peace. With everybody else infected with the Hunger you'd simply have been ordinary, a part of the new normal.” Gently, the giant tilted his head to one side. “You can still have that, you know.”

“Save the cliche dark side speech.”

“But imagine it. A world where everyone else eats as much as you, where everyone else is your size. A world without self-control, without sizeism, with all these things society uses to scorn you. A world where you can be yourself, be beautiful, not morbidly obese, just a normal, healthy weight. And all you need to do is let me lower standards a little.”

“What did you say?”

“I wouldn't turn me down, Hayley.” All affection was gone now. “No one else can offer you a gift like this.”

“You really are full of poison. Full of shit.”

“Perhaps,” Biocide sighed, “and I have plenty more where that came from.”

Biocide closed his eyes, and Hayley became aware of a dull, repetitive beating sound. It seemed to grow louder, faster, harder, until Biocide's body seemed to pulsate with every beat. Loose folds of wrinkled green skin shook from the sheer force. Then, his biceps begun to bulge rapidly, and his chest swelled beneath his breastplate. Veins erupted from within, shoulders skyrocketed, tendons tore audibly: muscles popped outwards in places Hayley was unaware any existed, yet still the growth continued. Eventually the weight of all this added bulk became too much for Biocide’s knees to bear, and with a crack he toppled forward, landing onto his knuckles like a gorilla. From this stance, his legs begun to grow as well, thickening with thew until they finally became strong enough to carry the monster’s overinflated upper half. Biocide rose to his feet: all folds had vanished now, all loose skin stuffed with muscle to the point of a near-transparent tautness.

It was all Hayley could do not to throw up.

“These are the same super-steroids I bestow on my beloved Hexaman,” Biocide explained. “Were he to have as much in his bloodstream as I do now he'd be catatonic, if not dead, but my body has an unnatural resistance to such toxins. To compensate, I suppose, for my heart's incredible powers.”

With incredible speed, Biocide lunged at Hayley and, before she could react, grabbed hold of her wrists. His grip alone might have been enough for her to bear with her enhanced durability, but his clasp caused acid to ooze acid from his pores like water from a sponge, and not even Pigwoman’s puffiness could protect her from the pain of the resultant burns. She screamed in agony, and that only made Biocide squeeze tighter.

“You see?” Biocide’s amber eyes grew strangely tender as he continued to squeeze. “My body is perfect: perfectly balanced, an industry unto itself. It is a present, to me, that I only wish share with you.”

“Can I…” It was all Hayley could do to choke out words through the torture. “Can I get a gift receipt?”

Pushing her considerable weight backwards, Hayley threw Biocide over her head and slammed him face first into the ground, landing with a soft thud on her cushiony ass. Bones could be heard shattering with the impact, but Biocide seemed to feel no pain: with nary a struggle, he rose to one knee and threw a green fireball at Hayley from one of the cannons attached to his bracers. Hayley quickly rolled out the way like a blubbery boulder, and, still grounded, sent a powerful side kick flying towards Biocide’s chiselled stomach. Despite their bulbous appearance, Biocide's abs felt like beanbags beneath her foot, sinking inwards with what should’ve been a devasting blow. Undeterred, Hayley grabbed the giant's gauntlet. As her doughy digits sank into the sturdy alloy, Hayley twisted Biocide’s arm. She only intended to hurt him, but when Biocide flung himself free Hayley realised with horror that she’s somehow torn his forearm free from its socket. Revelling in her repulsion, Biocide raised his arm upright, letting the loose part of the limb dangle at a 90 degree angle for a few seconds before yanking it back into place.

All the while, he didn't flinch.

“Painkillers,” he explained, “of remarkable power. I have trained my body to produce a vast number of otherwise-inorganic chemicals, the formulas of many known only to me. That includes of course the appetite suppressants I’ve created to ease the lives of gluttons like you. Need I remind you that if I die those are lost with me?”

Screaming with rage, Hayley charged towards Biocide. He scurried backwards, flinging a torrent of flame towards her, but she merely charged on through and let her costume be burnt to shreds. Her belly jiggled with disarming vigour as she burst through the fire, but nothing could distract her from her mission. Pummelling Biocide’s bronze-coloured breastplate with pudgy fists, the porky paladin sent him stumbling backwards, until she was able to grab the twin tanks of fluid attached to his back. She tore them away, but the back of Biocide’s breastplate came free with them. The skin revealed was sore and shredded, thick green fluid seeping from a network of deep scars. It was then Hayley noticed that the inside of the breast plate was coated with long, rusted needles.

The strange green fluid in the tanks was Biocide’s blood.

As sick as she felt, Hayley couldn’t take a breather, because only after a few seconds of pained wheezing Biocide was back to his full brutality. A robotic female voice said "back-up CO filter online", and immediately he spun around, his eyes ablaze.

“Why you little—!” Biocide threw a fearsome punch at Hayley, which she deflected with her doughy belly. “I need those vapours to breath!”

“I'm so sorry!” Hayley cried, as the powerful punches kept coming, each one landing with a squelch on Hayley’s squishy stomach.

“I don't need your sympathy!” Punch. “But you need mine.” Punch. “A creature crippled by its own lack of control.” Punch. “It says something that the only way to make the world want me was to make everyone as needy as you!”

Raising both his fists above his head, Biocide tried to slam them straight into Hayley’s skull, but she blocked them with her flabby forearms.

“It's a condition!” she cried, shoving him backwards. “You're a biochemist, you must know that!”

“A condition you could control if you had any willpower. Your hardships are nothing next to those I've overcome!”

Finally retaliating, Hayley punched Biocide’s sickly green face, and knocked his mask off.

As well as his jaw.

It’d only been hanging onto Biocide’s head by a few narrow stretches of skin. Now, completely detached, it lay in a puddle on the floor, yellowed teeth jutting out and awkward angles like spines on a sea urchin.

“Holy shit—!”

A torrent of sickly green acid flew forth several feet from Biocide’s throat. As Hayley dodged out the way, he reattached his mask.

“Now you know,” he said, through hacking coughs. “I need my mask to speak as well as breath. A hardship of the kind a slob like you couldn't possibly imagine.”

Still stunned, Hayley failed to dodge a brutal uppercut to her own jaw, her chubby chins doing little shield her from the impact. She fell over unto her padded posterior.

“That’s all you are,” said Biocide, rubbing his hands together and sending oozing acid dripping to the floor, “a lazy slob, a greedy glutton, an ungrateful pig!” Once again trapping her in his fiery grip, he pinned Pigwoman to the floor.

“Now, enjoy your final meal.”

Biocide removed his mask with his free hand, and with a horrible hacking sound began spewing green venom all over Hayley’s face. It bubbled and burnt, but that wasn’t enough for Biocide: forcing his hand between her lips, he begun trying to force open Hayley’s mouth, so he could feed the fluid down her throat. Hayley struggled and squirmed, desperately trying to break free, nothing work…

Until she pushed her belly out.

The force of Hayley’s enormous gym ball of a belly thrusting upwards was enough to knock Biocide off her, and send him stumbling backwards as he struggled to reattach his mask. With his uneven Atlassian proportions he had been caught completely off-balance, so he kept staggering even after he’d placed it back over his mouth until, with a chilling mechanical yelp, he fell over the guardrail on the side of the bridge. Flailing, he tried to grab hold of the bridge’s edge, but his acidic grip simply burnt through the steel. Nothing could save him. As he tumbled into the toxic vats below Hayley heard him wheeze one final time.

“I was only trying to help…”

Hayley’s reply was injected with as much venom as his body.

“Charity begins at home, you bastard.”

Spluttering and wailing, Biocide sank into the chemicals.


	14. Chapter 14

“Are you ready?” asked Lupe.

“I’ve been ready for weeks,” Hayley giggled.

“I know, I know…”

“I understand it’s a lot, but—”

“You really want this, right? You’re sure?”

“As much as you do. Now, go for it.”

Lupe’s arm trembled as he reached forward, ever so slowly…

“No.” Lupe jerked his arm back to his side, as if having touched a hot stove. “No, I can’t do it.”

“You can, Lupe.” Hayley gazed at him with warm hazel eyes. “I believe in you.”

Swallowing, Lupe tried again. Again, his arm outstretched, again it shook, only this time…

Only this time it made contact.

The landing zone was soft and smooth, so cushiony as to instantly assure Lupe he was in no danger. This _was_ happening, he _did_ deserve it: he pushed his hand a little further, poked it tenderly into the enormous expanse of Hayley’s belly. It gave way so easily, whilst remaining firm, gently bouncing back as he lifted his hand away. But he couldn’t lift it _all_ the way away, as nerve-wracking as this experience was. So, he simply held it in place, his palm pressed lightly against the pudgy plateau, and from there he could feel the soothing rise-and-fall of Hayley’s steady breaths, the hypnotic whirl of her ravenous stomach…

“Thank you, Hayley.”

It’d been two weeks since Blackwater City had been terrorised by Biocide and his virus, that gave everybody infected the same insatiable Hunger as Hayley. Fortunately, with the help of Paulie and Revolt, Lupe had been able to manufacture a cure; sneaking it past the robotic guards that patrolled the Blackwater’s pumping station had been a challenge, but with expert stealth and a few bouts of bot-crushing combat the trio had managed to release the cure into the city’s water supply before anyone was seriously injured. Or worse, eaten. Biocide, meanwhile, had been bested by Hayley, Blackwater’s newest superhero, and after tumbling into a vat of toxic chemicals had been presumed dead. Admittedly a body had never been found, but the Blackwater Police had dealt with enough of these scenarios to know that if a supervillain seems dead they usually are.

So, with the city saved, and Piledriver carted off to his home city of Los Dechado for community service, Darkwolf and Pigwoman had become Blackwater’s biggest celebrities. It wasn’t all plain-sailing (the media was certainly having difficulty adjusting to the concept of a plus-sized superhero), but aside from the odd drug deal here and there the heroes had been able to take the last two weeks pretty easy. Lupe certainly wasn’t very good at relaxing in this way, but with some coaxing and plenty of jiggling Hayley had eventually been able to convince him he deserved a break. Besides, she said, they needed to take some time to figure out their relationship.

Which was now romantic, as well as professional.

So, Lupe now sat straddled atop his girlfriend’s plump, pooling thighs with his sturdy arm squished into her supple stomach. It’d taken him two weeks to work up the courage, not to mention the twenty-three years leading up to that point, but at last Lupe was touching a tummy, and a truly tremendous one at that. Even now, he wasn’t sure if this doughy paradise was one he deserved, but the look of joy on Hayley’s face reminded him of the reality. She was proud of him, he knew, for finally getting here.

“How does it feel, Wolfie?” Hayley laughed, teasingly.

“Better… even better than I imagined.”

“I’d have to say the same. You feel so… protective.”

Tears welled in Lupe’s cheeks.

“Thank you, Hayley,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

“So,” Hayley smirked, “you wanna give this gut a squeeze?”

“What? No, I couldn’t—”

“You can, Lupe. I want you to.”

Lupe’s muscles tensed as he steeled himself for this unprecedented task. He closed his eyes, he clenched his teeth… and squeezed. Not hard, he was careful not to hurt Hayley, just enough to feel the fat ooze delicately between his fingers, to feel her pudge press up against his palm like the world’s comfiest pillow… Lupe opened his eyes and moaned, quietly. He relaxed his grip, and squeezed again, and again, letting the fat bounce back and forth beneath his grip.

“Dear god…” he muttered, still in disbelief.

“You wanna rub it, too?”

“I—”

“Never mind,” Hayley cried with glee, “you’re gonna!” Grabbing Lupe’s wrists, she guided his hand in a circular motion around her stomach, whilst forcing him to apply just a little bit more pressure; her supple stomach offered him no resistance as his hand serenely skimmed along its surface like a pool noodle rolling across water. Eventually, Hayley let go of Lupe’s wrists, and the shy superhero continued to rub and play with her glorious gut all by himself.

“You’re gorgeous, Hayley,” said Lupe softly, “just… perfect.”

“Don’t I know it!” Hayley laughed, “and that’s thanks to you.”

“It wasn’t me at all, you’ve… you’ve come so far.”

“Alright then, it was 49 per cent you. Even if you didn’t always do it on purpose.”

“That pretty problema—”

“Wolfie,” she said sternly, “I don’t care how I got here, I’m just grateful that I did. So I’m gonna do my best to enjoy it. And,” she winked, “you’d better do the same…”

“I’m trying. It’s… it’s hard.”

“I know. But that’s why you’re my hero, Lupe. You never give up.”

She was perfect.

“Let’s play a little game,” Hayley giggled. “It’s called, ‘which roll will Wolfie grab next?’”

“You don’t need to—”

“I’m shutting my eyes, big dog… Now, where will the master of stealth strike next?”

The possibilities were endless, the reality of it all still unbelievable. Where to touch first? Her humongous hips, spread out in huge squishy circles on either side? Or maybe her bloated bingo wings, dangling decadently down from her ample arms? Perhaps her plump love handles, so sensually thick and fluffy? Should he reach for the rolls at the top of her thighs, or the ones beneath her breasts, or the ones within her armpits…?

After some deliberation, Lupe grabbed hold of a particularly chunky roll on the side of Hayley’s stomach that rested comfortably atop one of her love handles. Slowly, he massaged the pillowy fat between his fingers and thumb, and tried to commit its texture to memory in all its blubbery brilliance.

“Fuck…” Hayley moaned. Eyes still shut, she bit her lip. “Fucking hell, you’re good at this…”

“I… I…” Lupe could scarcely stammer a response. “Thank you.”

“You…” Hayley opened her eyes; they now seemed so much brighter than before. “You wanna go even further?”

“Are you sure?” Lupe replied warily.

“Come on,” Hayley grinned, “it’s been two weeks, if we’d have met on Tindr we’d have done it at least twelve times already.”

“Well… If you’re sure…”

Placing her hand on Lupe’s sturdy shoulder, Hayley’s voice became serious once again.

“You don’t have to be scared, Lupe,” she said. “If you’re not ready yet, it’s fine.”

“No,” Lupe shook his head, “you’re right. I want this.”

And he would’ve gotten it, had there knock been a knock on the bedroom door.

“Fuck off!” Hayley squealed, barely supressing her giggles.

“I’m sorry Hayley,” shouted Luc from outside, “but Road-Rage is making a scene on forty-ninth. Revolt and Poltergeist are en route, but they could use back-up.”

With a sigh, Lupe leapt to his feet.

“We’ll be there,” he sighed, “won’t we, partner?”

“Well…” Hayley stared sheepishly at her naked belly.

“Hayley, you’re a hero now, you’re needed out there. And not only by me.”

“ _Fiiiiine…_ ” With a few heavy breaths, Hayley sluggishly heaved herself off the bed. “I’ll come along, on one condition.”

“Which is?” Lupe already knew the answer.

“Can we stop to get drive-thru?”

_THE END_


	15. Chapter 15

There wasn’t much left of the Hexaco anymore. After all, Biocide had primed all the manufacturing lines crucial to his plan to detonate upon his death, and now it was clear, Eddie realised as he waded through the wreckage of the company’s headquarters, that he’d been very thorough about the job. Machines had been massacred, robots had been obliterated, and most of the toxic waste left behind in the wake of the explosions had been cleared away, at the taxpayer’s expense. That meant it was now safe for dumpster-divers like Eddie to try and salvage what tech they could from the corporation’s collapse.

Frantically, Eddie dug through the rubble with his hands. He had to find something, he _had_ to: it was essential for his grand plan. Perhaps a stray CPU, or a blaster of some sort, or some gunk the clean-up crews had left behind. They couldn’t have got everything, there had to be more stuff still buried, he was desperate…

Eddie’s hands hit steel. From the rubble, he pulled out a copper-coloured oval-object, with a single shattered eye in its centre: one of the heads of Biocide’s robots. Yes, Eddie thought. That would do nicely…

_The Flabtastic Pigwoman will return in…_

_PIGWOMAN VS COWGIRL: DAWN OF JUST DESSERTS_


End file.
